Haunted Love
by TheOnlyPotato
Summary: Katniss and Haymitch are forced into marriage to protect each other from being married off to strangers. But Katniss begins to fear their marriage is not only based off of protecting each other, but on something electric that she's only ever shared with Peeta Mellark.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**_Surrender to what is. Let go of what was. Have faith in what will be.  
>-Sonia Ricotti<em>**

It is five years after the war and the sun is kissing the horizon and mixing with warm tones of pink and oranges and cool ones of blues and purples, creating the allusion of dusk when we settle down for the special announcement that Effie called to tell us about. Haymitch and Peeta sit on either side of me, each as disinterested as I am to see what this oh-so important broadcast is about.

The new Panem seal – my mockingjay pin – displays on our screen, the anthem blares and a smartly dressed Plutarch Heavensbee walks onto stage, a rosy-cheeked Effie on his arm and a bouncing baby in her arms. I almost gag at how quickly those two settled down after the war, but when the baby is on camera I can't help but notice how adorable the little cherub is, with shining cognac eyes and blonde curls that are piled atop her head under a fur hat.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. As you probably are aware of, population is critical after the war," Plutarch begins, looking out on the crowd of people that have gathered in the Capitol circle. "The war had a lot of casualties, and our species decreased ten-fold during that rebellion, not to mention our economy is staggering greatly. Now, I'm not going to tell you sugar-coated lies about what we're trying to do here. To boost our economy and population, fertile women and men eighteen years of age and over will be paired together based on personalities effective _immediately_. Infertile women and men will be put together to raise and nurture orphaned children into health, to prevent the orphanages from becoming too full. Every family must have a minimum of two children in the first ten years of their marriage but to prevent _over_population must have a maximum of six. Two orphaned children will be automatically assigned to infertile couples. You may choose your spouse, as long as it is done before October the fifth. As you see, I have fulfilled my duties and plan to keep fulfilling them to pull my weight. Please remember, this is for Panem today, Panem tomorrow and Panem forever. Thank you." The anthem plays – the hanging tree is our new national anthem, my hoarse and raspy voice blasting over the speakers – while Plutarch and Effie share a sweet kiss and wave to the cameras.

"Sick," Haymitch murmurs, turning off the television once one of Caesar's broadcasts of the latest outfits begins to flicker on. "Effie shouldn't have wound up with him." There is a pang of jealousy in Haymitch's voice and I pity him. He really loved Effie, but she turned him down because of the vast differences between them. He even tried sobriety for her, and she hurt him anyways.

"I think they're cute," Peeta hums, looking up from his sketchbook. Glancing down, I see that it is our new seal with a black background. Roughly, behind my pin is Haymitch and I, me with a bow and Haymitch with a bottle. It's creepily accurate. "So what does this mean for you, Abernathy?"

"Oi vey, I'm not sure kid," The older man grunts, taking a long drink from his bottle. "What does it mean for you is the better question."

"What do you mean?" I ask, raising my eyebrow. "We were together through the war, through everything. They can't… they won't separate us," I correct. Peeta agrees with me eagerly. If I'm being forced to have children, I want to have them with Peeta. It's the only person I'll willingly have them with anyway. Haymitch, however chuckles from beside me.

"They said based off of personality and fertility. You two couldn't be the same if you were _twins_, not to mention that you are infertile from your… ah…_treatment_ during the war and sweetheart here is able to bear child," he points out. My eyes float to Peeta's who cheeks have reddened considerably. He never told me about his infertility, yet he was always talking about having children. Maybe he didn't know.

"_No_…" I whisper, my hands flying to my mouth as what Haymitch is attempting to explain hits me in my mouth. This couldn't be happening. I didn't want to have kids in the first place, yet alone with some stranger. Peeta's hand tries to find mine, but I stand and move away from him, my breaths becoming labored and heavy. No… no I couldn't get shacked up with some sleaze or some asshole… because if they're doing this off of personality, that's just what I was. A real asshole.

"There's no way they're going to waste Katniss' perfect ability to have a kid because you love each other," Haymitch grunts, sipping from his bottle of whiskey.

"And you, Haymitch?" I ask, more so to get my mind off of my fate than out of genuine curiosity. "What about you?"

"I would have been with Effie," he sighs, the jealous twang creeping back into his voice. "But she's in the same situation you're in. She was born with a narrow uterus, she can't have kids. Plutarch can't either; he is unable to produce semen for some… odd reason. I however, am fully functional."

"How do you know about all of this?" I ask him.

"People pass me off as the drunk, I get to quietly observe. I can tell you Gale already married off to an ex-Victor from District 1 named Allura. She and Gale have been dating since they met in District 13 a short time after the rebellion ended. Planning to get married, she's already knocked up anyway."

"What about Annie and Johanna?" Peeta asks worriedly. Maybe he could settle with one of them so he wouldn't be married off to some woman he didn't know.

"They're somewhat of a couple anyways. Johanna is generally helping Annie raise little Finley, and she's basically a rendition of Finnick as well, helping Annie with her flashbacks and nightmares. I'm sure the only thing they'll be forced into is two orphaned children, they already have one."

"Beetee?" I try, chewing my nails.

"Infertile. He'll be set up with someone," Haymitch shrugs. "Don't ask about your mother. She'll be pardoned considering she already had two children. If anything, they'll just _ask_ her to adopt." He puts his hand up before I can ask and my mouth clamps shut. I can think of no one else right now that may just be pardoned, except…

"Paylor?"

"Mmm… Paylor… I'm not quite sure. She'll most likely go through with it too, to show that she stands behind the law," Haymitch pushes himself off the couch, brushing the dark strands of hair from his eyes. "I might get stuck with Hazelle, she's the only person I think of that is still able to have children but she's pardoned because she had what… five of 'em? Not anyone else."

"Except…" Peeta stands, tapping his pencil against his chin. "Except of course, Katniss."

"What?" I ask, at the same time Haymitch says, "No."

"Wait, think about it. When it comes to personality, you're exactly alike. You were able to communicate through the Games with lack of water and a tin of soup. If you can do that, your compatibility is commendable. And you both are fertile. I trust you with Katniss, Haymitch. I know you won't force her into anything she doesn't want."

"Peeta-" I start.

"I'm twice her age, boy," Haymitch interrupts. "Not to mention I was called the heart breaker for _ten years_ after I won. You _really_ trust me?"

"And he's… handsome! In that rugged, sort of really dirty… bad guy way… you can't possible trust him with me. I don't think I'll be able to control myself," I sigh. I'll do anything to get Peeta to see sense at this point, but the painter won't back down.

"That was weak, Katniss. Look, if you shack up with some freak he might not let you visit me or Haymitch, knowing our history. Haymitch will allow us to be together."

"I'm sure infidelities are punishable by death here in 12," Haymitch points out tiredly. "I'm not letting you two be stupid and get executed because you want to screw around."

"That's not what I mean! I mean, at least I'll be able to see you. At least I'll be able to be around you, Katniss. I'd rather Haymitch. Please, you guys. Agree with me?"

"I don't know…" I trail off, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. Haymitch stands drunkenly, running a hand over his face.

"_Fine_ boy, you win. You two have your last few nights together, and invite your mommy, sweetheart, we're getting married," he grunts, before marching out of the house and slamming the door behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>I've seen quite a few stories about a law that forces two people to marry and have kids for a baby boom. It's happened in different fandoms with different pairings, but I wanted to try this for myself. If you really like it, it'll become a full-fledged Aberdeen story. It's going to be pretty slow-burn though. So leave an R&amp;R with your thoughts. Over and out.<strong>


	2. Chapter One

**A/N: Okay,I honestly didn't think I would recieve such a response. Not only did I get 2 reviews (which is a lot in book for a prologue cx) but I also recieved 3 favorites and _13 followers._ 13 motherfudging followers. 13. 1. 3. That's a lot, for one chappie. So I hope this chapter gets the same response as that one did. Much love to everyone ^-^**

**Chapter One**

**_Sometimes our biggest problems are conquered by the easiest of solutions  
>-Unknown<em>**

_Somehow, that night passes in moments of passion with Peeta and before I am prepared, I am awaking with fresh rays of sunlight bathing my face. For a moment, I seem to have forgotten why we were upset seeing as it is a normal morning. The smell of bacon and eggs waft up through my nose and I stretch like a cat in bed, a smile on my lips._

_"Katniss," a deep gravelly voice says. "Breakfast!" Frowning, I swing my legs over bed and take the stairs two at a time. That's not Peeta's voice, but it's very familiar. I pause on the stairwell, taking a deep breath before I continue down. When I hit the landing, there are two quick blurs and suddenly I'm stumbling back on the stairs at two small presences._

_Looking down, two pairs of shining bullet gray eyes look up at me. A chill runs down my spine when I realize the children look a scary lot like myself. One of them, a little girl, squeezes my leg tightly._

_"Mommy!" She giggles. My frown deepens. Mommy? Just what the hell is going on here? "Mommy beck-fas."_

_"Breakfast," the other one corrects, his slightly darker locks swinging into his eyes. "It's pronounced breakfast Ambrosia. As if to break the fast of our eight our sleep. C'mon mum, dad made your favorite." He looks back up at me and grabs my hand, dragging me towards the kitchen, where a tall figure stands hunched over the sink, elbow deep in dirty dishes. The figure whistles as he cleans, occasionally pausing to rinse. Using my free hand, I rub the sleep from my eyes._

_"Gale?" I ask, since his physique looks a lot like Gale and his has the same over grown dark hair. The figures hands still, faltering for only a second before turning around. I scream when his face comes into a clear focus._

_"No, sweetheart, it's your husband."_

I jump from my dreams with a start, sitting up in bed with the sheets collected around my modesty, preparing to protect myself from Haymitch's wandering eyes. My eyes dart around our room in Peeta's house, and everything is exactly the same, including my pair of pants that we had discarded climbing into bed together. A pair of familiar arms wraps around me and warm lips kiss my forehead and I sigh in relief, warmth flooding through my body and crashing live waves on District 4's beach. I lean into Peeta, fisting his shirt and forcing myself to believe that here, that _now_ is real. My tears soak through his shirt and he holds me, letting me cry it out.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Peeta's honey on steel voice asks when a rough half hour has passed of my shaking and coming down to reality. I don't reply at first, my dream still vivid and bright in my head. Eventually, though, I do nod my head, peering up at him when I've got my gatherings.

"It wasn't so much a _bad_ dream," I explain, wrapping my arms around his middle and leaning my head over his heart. A steady thrum reminds me that he is here, that he is very much alive and that he is _not_ Haymitch. "I just… I dreamed I had two kids with Haymitch. I dreamed of a future without you, and I can't stand to have one. Not when I _just_ got you back." The worst effects of his hijacking were only recently wearing off, and now the days in which Peeta stared at me with angry, clouded over eyes were few and far between.

"I'm not being taken from you physically; I just won't be there emotionally. I'm sure Haymitch will know how to keep after you," he comforts. "The last thing he would do is leave you to battle your demons alone."

"He'll be passed out drunk during our entire marriage," I snort. Peeta chuckles but pulls me closer, rubbing soothing circles on my lower back. "He won't be awake to comfort me. Not like you always are."

"Alcohol affects one's ability to have sex, and makes them lethargic… I'm absolutely positive that when they come by for your six-month inspection, they will make sure he isn't consuming alcohol," He sighs. Of course, the six-month inspection. Two government officials will go by each and every married couple's home of living and see if they are participating in the consummation of marriage. If they aren't, they will be jailed. It was mentioned in the details sometimes after the original showing of the announcement.

"Do you think we should detox him before we marry? To make it easier on all of us?" I ask, my eyes floating over to Haymitch's home. The muffled sounds of screams were coming from the house, and in the light of the moon I can see the outline of his figure thrashing in the sheets. An alcohol shortage in 12 and the man is too prideful to come ask us for our stash.

"I'm sure we will have to," Peeta sighs, glancing to the clock. "Go to sleep, Katniss. You should probably rest up." I agree with him and we fall back into the bed, shuffling and arranging our limbs until I am half-laying atop him and his arms are wrapped around my waist. I place my ear right over his heart and let the steady pattern lull me back to sleep, my reoccurring night terrors creeping back in. For once in my life, I welcome them. Because in each of them, there is Peeta and they are dreams considering the nightmares I have about losing him.

Morning comes once more and I am awoken again and this time it is by ringing. It takes me a minute to realize the ringing in my ears is not from an explosion but from the house phone. Quietly, I remind myself that I am at home with Peeta and not in the Capitol circle.

"Hello?" A groggy voice asks from beside me. Turning in bed, I see Peeta with the phone cradled between his ear and shoulders. He rubs his eyes and sits up in bed, suddenly more alert as the conversation goes on with whoever is on the other line. "Yes… well you'd have to speak with the others on this matter… especially, Katniss." There is a pause and Peeta's eyes flit to me before he sighs.

"I really don't want to speak for her, you should ask her," he murmurs before handing me the phone. I press it to my ear, and take a deep breath. Whatever it is, it can't be good because Peeta seems increasingly nervous.

"Miss Everdeen?" The familiar voice of Plutarch Heavensbee greets my ears and I sigh. Nothing good at all, because when Plutarch Heavensbee spoke to me, he always wanted something out of me. "Miss Everdeen this is Plutarch Heavensbee speaking to you. I asked Mr. Mellark to speak on your behalf, but for some reason he was incapable of doing so."

"What are you calling about?" I demand, wanting this conversation over as quickly as possible. Sleep was threatening to pull me back under, and I can't willingly say I would mind.

"I am arranging a press conference of rebels," he says, clearing his throat. "To show that they support the new law and that it has bought them closer than ever to their new spouses and made them realize where their heart truly lays behind the false love that was created for survival. It simpler terms, we want everyone to believe that you love your new spouse. It would truly help the law kick into gear."

"Now, it has come to my attention that Peeta Mellark is unable to produce children and you two will not be getting married. I assume you have found a worthy candidate?" Worthy? As if Peeta was unworthy of me because I still worked and he didn't? I want to spit. If anyone was unworthy of anyone, it was I that was unworthy of him.

"I have," I grit out, my patience with the conversation already wearing thin. He just insulted Peeta, whether he intended to or not, and my possessiveness is beginning to kick in.

"Great! Then I will only send Peeta the file for the questionnaire for him to be paired. Who, might I ask is your new companion?" He asks, his voice filled with excitement. If the Mockingjay was willing to show her agreement with the law, then he would have this in the ballpark.

"… Haymitch Abernathy." There is silence before laughter, and when the laughter comes it is more wheezing and hacking than anything. I cringe, pulling the phone away from my ear. Peeta, who has begun to get ready for the day, glances over to me.

When the laughter ends, Plutarch takes a deep breath before, with a quavering voice, says, "Oh delightful! I always knew that you and Haymitch were such a cute couple, despite the age difference. Please do hold off your wedding until after the press conference… in which you are attending, yes?"

"I… I suppose. I'll see if I can drag my… fiancé along," I shudder as I force the words out. Saying the words 'fiancé' without referencing to Peeta will take some getting used to.

"Splendid! Well, the event will be held five weeks after all the official marriage paperwork is signed and all the families on their way to happily ever afters! We will however, be sending cameras out to your house within a week to document you and Haymitch since you two have already confirmed marriage. I must go now, Effie and Candice wanted to go to the park today and a morning stroll is the best stroll. Have a good morning, Miss Everdeen. I am excited to hear about your new engagement, tell your fiancé I said congratulations." Then with that, the line clicks dead. I look to Peeta who is standing in the door to the adjoining wash room, a towel in hand.

"What was that all about?"

"They want to send cameras out here to document my new love life," I snort. Peeta chuckles, rolls his eyes, and disappears into the bathroom.

* * *

><p>After we've both washed up and dressed in fresh clothing and had breakfast, we both trudge through the snow towards Haymitch's house, two bottles of liquor in each of my hands and a plate of food for Haymitch.<p>

We push open the door to his house and I spot him on the couch, staring straight at the hearth with his eyes half-lidded. He looks up at our presence and perks up a bit, pushing himself off the couch.

"Well, well. My fiancé and her boyfriend," he snorts. "What are you two doing here?" He saunters over to us, and I notice just how bad he looks. His eyes have deep purple bags beneath them, bags that I haven't seen since he was forced into sobriety by President Coin. There is sleep in the corners of his eyes but I know that he has not slept all night, and when he speaks his voice is hoarse from screaming. The alcohol shortage is really taking its toll on him.

"We bring peace offerings," Peeta jokes, taking one of the bottle from me. Haymitch snatches it from him like a starving man would a loaf of bread and quickly pops the seal on it, downing half of it in one gulp. He belches loudly and I wrinkle my nose. This was to be the man I would sleep with, have children with, and be married to.

"Your presence is now slightly more favorable," Haymitch says eventually. "What was that?"

"It's pretty aged white lightning. My mum used to use it on the wounds of the people who were punished, but it has no use in my home anymore. Peeta and I don't drink."

"Oh, well thank whatever is beyond the sky for your mother," he drawls lazily before unwrapping the plate Peeta had bought and scarfing down a roll. Peeta rolls up his sleeves and begins making dishwater while Haymitch eats and I lean on the filthy counter, unsure of what to do with myself.

"What are you doing, boy?" Haymitch asks, when his plate of food is almost clean. Peeta shrugs, washing a dish before placing it into the other part of the sink to be rinsed.

"We're cleaning today. Didn't Plutarch call you?"

"I don't have a phone," the older man reminds. "He called you two?"

"This morning. They want to show that the main rebel team stands behind the law happily and that spouses are already falling in love from it. He wants you and I on camera within a week, smiling, kissing and acting merry for the cameras."

"Why do I get a nagging sense of déjà vu?" Peeta asks. Haymitch rolls his eyes, leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

"And if I _refuse_?" The look in his eyes resembles one of a teenager testing the waters with their parents, to see how much they can revolt against them before serious consequences.

"Nothing happens. But you're not refusing, because if we do this then we'll be able to sink back into the shadows. Hell, maybe they'll even forget about us," I snap at him. Haymitch mulls it over, swishing the liquor in his bottle. I sigh. "And I'll bring Peeta and I's entire stash of alcohol over here if you do this." At this Haymitch jumps from his seat, takes me into his arms and kisses me. It's sloppy and uncoordinated, but I don't expect his lips to taste like peppermints. It's actually quite nice, for it to be Haymitch of all people.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta tense noticeably. I push away from Haymitch and wipe my mouth, but the drunkard doesn't even notice me.

"Well then in that case, sweetheart, sign me _right the fuck up_."

"Yeah, well, you'll have to earn that liquor too," Peeta sighs. "You get Katniss' if you go through with the interviews, you get _mine_ if you help us clean the house."

I have _never_ seen Haymitch grab a broom so fast.


	3. Chapter Two

**I couldn't remember for the life of me whether Pollux, Cressida and Castor had died in the original story. For the sake of this story, I let them live.**

**Chapter Three**

**_We've been living in sin because we've been really in love but we've been living as friends.  
>- P. Diddy<em>**

Somehow, we manage to get the house clean before the cameras get to 12. They arrive with a bunch of difficult equipment and with that, a familiar and much welcomed camera crew. I practically throw myself into Pollux's arms, and he squeezes me tightly, his warm breath puffing on my ear. We stay embraced for a long time before I pull away, taking them all in fondly. They've all changed so much, I barely recognize Cressida with her hair grown back in and the tattoos that were once on the side of her head invisible now.

Pollux signs something and Castor watches the hand signs closely before chuckling. "He says, he's missed you lovely. We all have, it seemed as if you dropped off the face of the earth after everything was said and done!" Castor exclaims. Cressida nods, her eyes flitting to the excitable man. There is something there, something that I have never seen between the two of them before. The way her gaze lingers a bit too long or the way he flutters his hands beside her, like he's unsure of what to do with them.

"There's so much you've missed out on, Katniss. Mind if we come in?" She asks, rubbing her arms against the cold. I snap out of my staring and shake my head, laughing.

"Of course," I agree, stepping aside and welcoming them into Haymitch's house. It smells of cleaning agents, vanilla and strawberries now that it has been freshened up. Some of Peeta's paintings litter the walls, making the house seem less desolate and more like a home. There is a fire in the hearth for a first time in quite a long time, and Haymitch is sitting with his legs draped over the armrest of the recliner, swirling a glass of liquor in his hands. We were attempting to ease him off of it, so a bottle a day was slowly turning into five glasses a day. He had to be somewhat sober for the press conference.

Cressida squeals – no, she _actually_ _squeals_ – and attacks him, hugging him like he's a vice. Haymitch pats her back, chuckling. "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in from the barn."

"Haymitch, it's been too long! Let's see… you still smell like whiskey, so you apparently haven't changed much since the last time I saw you."

"And you still smell like sex. Old habits die hard, sweetheart," he teases. I vaguely remember Cressida once telling me something or another about how she and Haymitch used to be good friends when he had to visit the Capitol, that her mother had made him her notary godfather when she was just a girl. Even I have to smile at the way they fall back into a comfortable friendship after almost four years of not seeing each other.

"We have to catch up," Castor chuckles, dragging in the camera equipment with the help of Pollux. "There is so much you should hear about."

"Well, I'll make the tea then," Haymitch says, removing Cressida from him, pushing himself off the couch and heading into the kitchen. Pollux looks after him before smiling, signing something to Castor who laughs.

"He says that you've got him whipped. How did you tame the wild beast that is Haymitch Abernathy?"

"I haven't," I respond, taking my dark hair into my fingers. Deftly, I begin the familiar process of braiding, something I do whenever the conversation is uncomfortable. "He's just untameable."

"Yeah, he's pretty wild. Well, in the Capitol the law has actually helped a bit," Castor sighs. "Cressida and I… we're in love. We found it out before the law but I believe that it just helped enforce our love. At first I was afraid that it would separate us but Katniss… it did a lot of good. Hell, it's still doing a lot of good." To normal ears, it sounds like an exclamation of gratefulness. But my ears are far from normal and pick up on the edge in his voice easily.

"What do you mean?" I ask, truly curious. Cressida sighs, peering around the corner to the kitchen before lowering her voice.

"It's just that a lot of us are madly in love and looking forward to long, happy, married lives with each other. I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my years in Castor's arms, not to mention the inevitable baby boom would boost the economy and allow more funding, especially for treatment for the surviving Avoxes."

"Treatment?" I ask, my brow furrowing.

"They're developing a telecommunication device. Pollux will be able to talk by typing words into the device. He'll have a temporary voice until they could replace his tongue. But they can't do that without a severe economy boost. Anyways, that's not my current point. What I'm saying is that you should really take advantage of the fact you have Haymitch, and not someone else."

"I'm sorry; I don't understand." She's talking in riddles and I can't seem to wrap my head around what she's trying to explain. Cressida sighs and goes to open her mouth again to say something, but Haymitch emerges with a tray of teacups, a small plate of sugar cubes and a small bowl filled with cream. Cressida seems to be relieved and she pats my hand before curling up to Castor.

"Well, I'm sorry to delay our conversation. I was busy waiting for the water to heat," he smiles, before settling back into the recliner and setting the teacups down on the coffee table. He extends his arms and his eyes send me a silent plea.

_Let's get this over with._

Rolling my eyes, I crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around his middle. His lips find the top of my forehead and I place my heart right over his ear, like I used to do with Peeta when I woke up from a particularly bad nightmare.

Peeta. He was busy in the house over, filling out the questionnaire for his perfect match. I wonder who he will be paired with, what lucky girl would have the fortune of courting the infamous Peeta Mellark.

"Alright, let's start the interview," Cressida smiles. Pollux and Castor unravel the equipment, attaching microphones to Haymitch and I's shirts, focusing small cameras on their shoulders and around the living room to capture us at every angle.

When everything is set, Cressida dims the lights to the perfect brightness while Castor sits at the kitchen table, controlling all cameras and making the necessary edits.

"Now we're going to try to do this in one take," he instructs, setting up the system. "So we need you two to just be relaxed. Don't force anything that's not there, except. Be a natural couple. We're airing this right before they send out the letters and coordinates of the assigned couples, so we need it to look extremely convincing."

"Alright, we're rolling in 3…2…1… action!" Cressida turns towards the camera, a warm smile on her face.

"This is Cressida, your nationwide news reporter with our very first couple on the law, Haymitch Abernathy and Katniss Everdeen!" The camera pans to us and we wave, our smiles easy and relaxed. I have no idea what Haymitch thinks about to look so calm, but I imagine Peeta's face and it makes everything much easier for me.

"As you all know, Miss Everdeen – and soon to be Mrs. Abernathy – was initially broadcasted as being in love with Peeta Mellark before the news came out that it was all a hoax for survival. Miss Everdeen, do you mind telling us what made you want to tell everyone the truth?" I pause, choosing my words carefully as I speak, attempting to sound as realistic as possible.

"You make it sound like I don't love Peeta, which is completely untrue. Peeta and I shared a lot of intimate moments… especially since I was pregnant with his child at some point. But they weren't the same… they aren't the same ones I share with Haymitch. I believe I realized our love sometime during District 13, when Haymitch was the only person there to comfort me," I pause for effect, looking at Haymitch through my eyelashes. He smirks back at me, before bringing his hand to the back of my neck and forcing my lips onto his.

We kiss for a moment before laughing, pressing our foreheads together. "I'm sorry, she's a bit irresistible. I think what Katniss means is; when you're the only two people who understands what the other is going through, then more feelings than simple friendship begin to develop. It's something truly remarkable. This law only helped us realize our true emotions and bring us closer together. I'm sure it will do the same for many other couples."

"That's so sweet," Cressida sighs. She now sits behind the camera, and her face is relieved. She flashes us thumbs up before clearing her throat. "Mr. Abernathy, there were rumors circulating about your affairs with the infamous Effie Trinket before the 74th Games. Have those feelings resurfaced?"

"Since I've been with Katniss, absolutely not. What Effie and I had was somewhat… unofficial. I'm sure she's happy with Plutarch, and I am quite happy with Katniss," he says smoothly. I turn and smile at him again, kissing his neck.

"Alright you two, save that for closed doors. Now, the big question is… how does Peeta feel about this?"

"Peeta… Haymitch, dear would you like to get this one?" I ask. We had spoken to Peeta about this question; we knew it would pop up. Peeta and I had prepared it multiple times, and Haymitch practically knew the speech by heart.

"Peeta's torture in the Capitol changed him," explains Haymitch. "He's not the boy you knew in the 74th Hunger Games. He's so much more… empty, than that boy. He's a man now, a man who is broken beyond repair and neither Katniss nor I, know how to fix him. We worry, we do… it's just that, we're not properly equipped to help him. We hope this law finds someone who is. It's just another benefit of it. If Peeta finds someone to keep him grounded… then I think we'll all be able to move on from our past."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," I gush, before turning to camera. "This law is helping us, it's helping us all. I just want to thank the officials of Panem for assisting me in finding my one true love." Haymitch and I kiss again, this time a bit longer with my hands running down his chest and his fingers tangling in my hair.

"That's a wrap!" Castor yells. Haymitch pulls away from me and jumps from the couch, practically bolting into the kitchen for some alcohol to put in his system. Cressida smiles at me sadly, removing the microphone from my shirt.

"He'll come around, I _promise_. Haymitch is a very difficult man to break through," she says, packing the microphone in the case. I wrap my arms around myself, curling back into the recliner as Castor and Pollux sign things to edit the footage.

I catch a glimpse of Haymitch, who is leaning next to Castor and pointing out the good shots they got of us kissing for a slide show.

Shaking my head, I grab my hunting bag and march out of the house. I need fresh air.


	4. Chapter Three

**Holy shit guys I love you. I appreciate everyone that's favorited, followed, or reviewed. This is my last update for a little while so please enjoy. Much love, again keep doing what you're doing. **

**Chapter Three**

**_I was never used to being happy, so that wasn't something I ever took for granted.  
>-Marilyn Monroe<em>**

In the woods is where I feel most free, so I am quick to make a hasty exit from the seemingly stuffy house and take my bow and arrows where I can do some clean hunting. I haven't been doing much of that, seeing as the announcement of the new law had me preparing for cameras and a new wash of fame, but when I set foot into the woods, my body relaxes and I breathe in home.

The hunting grounds aren't exactly private anymore, with the fence being taken down and poaching no longer being a matter of problem, so there are plenty families out here this Sunday morning hunting and teaching their children to hunt.

I smile at an older couple who moved here from six, and their little boy looks up from shooting his gun to wave at me. As much as I like for things to be quiet and for the hunting grounds to be sacred, I have to admit going out is much less scary when there are others around. And if you get cornered by a wild animal, there will be alert ears to come after you.

"Hello," I whisper to my bow, as I make the trek to Gale and I's rock. It thrums to life, the steady vibration under my fingers alerting me of its wake. I kept the bow Beetee had created for me, but got rid of the explosive and incendiary arrows that had come with it. Regular arrows are in my sheath now, arrows not for war but for hunting.

I'm not sure why I kept it, I can't fathom why I would want something with so many dreadful memories. But I do, and I like the bow. So I keep it on my persons.

"Alright, come on, let's see if we can find a good buck or two for some venison," I say to the bow before continue the trek up the steep mountain. I get lost in hunting, setting snares as I go higher into the mountains. I know that it's the middle of winter and food is scarce in the woods, but anything to keep me busy right now.

I am hiding behind a large boulder when there is the sound of crunching snow behind me. I turn on my heel, my arrow raised and prepared to take out some sort of animal form. But instead of a deer or a boar, I see Prim, with one of my arrows through her head. I scream and drop my bow, scrambling back away from the large rock.

"Katniss!" A familiar voice calls. "Katniss its Peeta! You're okay, it's just me." He gathers me in his arms and I inhale his scent, the strong smell of freshly baked bread and heavy lead paints fill my nose and I wrap my arms around him.

"Peeta… Peeta…" I repeat, convincing myself that I am okay. Not in the arena, not in battle, but here with Peeta. I'm not in the arena and I'm never going back. And I didn't kill my sister… I didn't kill Prim.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here. Are you alright?"

"I'm... fine, I'm just a little shaken from the interview… and you?"

"I'll be okay," he sighs, sitting next to me in the snow. I grab my bow and murmur 'goodnight' and it's steady humming stops. "How did it go?"

"It went perfect, according to Cressida. That's what made me sick. They didn't even notice our age difference; all they saw was a cute little couple to broadcast in support of their law. I can't hold it against Cressida, Castor and Pollux personally but… oh I don't want to do this, Peeta. I don't want to marry my mentor that I've seen as a father figure for so long."

"You have to," Peeta points out, sadly. He shifts so he's sitting in a dead patch of grass, and picks up handful daisies. Deftly, he weaves them into a flower crown as he speaks. "I would rather you with Haymitch, who would protect you, then someone who doesn't know what boundaries are."

"I know Peeta but… but I want you. I want to be with you. I took you for granted for three suffering years and now that I have you I'm being denied my happiness… again."

"I'm sorry, Katniss. We could take it to Paylor, I'm sure she would be generous. Maybe we get this all said and done before they air the video," he says optimistically. I shake my head before leaning it on my knees. An urge to sing washes over me, and seeing no reason not to, I do.

"Are you, are you coming to the tree? Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me. Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be, if we met at midnight, in the hanging tree," I sing out the last verse of the song into the air and the mockingjay's pick it up, their voices flitting throughout the trees with the eerie song of Hanging Tree.

"Katniss, you are not saying what I think you are saying," Peeta says brusquely, the flower crown falling from his fingers. He understands then. I shiver, but not from the light breeze that pulls through the air as the mockingjay's flit around, singing their newfound song.

I remember a scene similar to this, when Pollux had asked me to sing for him. It was the song that completely turned the rebellion, the song that the nation sang while they rebelled against the iron fist of the Capitol.

An image of a battered and bruised Peeta flashes behind my eyelids.

"All I'm saying is that they can't force me to marry anyone if I'm dead. It's the same for you," I whisper. Peeta shakes his head, chuckling darkly.

"I'm not allowing you to do that, and I'm not doing it either," he says, standing and dusting the grass from his jeans. "See and now I don't trust you out here alone. Let's go."

"I haven't done any hunting," I protest. He grabs my wrist and yanks me up to my feet. I go to fight him on the matter, but he presses his lips against mine and kisses me roughly. His hand comes up to the back of my neck and his hand creeps up my shirt to grope my breast.

Peeta always tastes sweet, of peppermints and butterscotch candies. Sometimes on a bad day he tastes of bourbon, but today it's pure and soothing. I can't help but melt at the feeling his lips against mine, soft when compared to Haymitch's rough ones. And his kisses aren't sloppy either, but carefully coordinated and calculated. When we kiss, Peeta knows what we both want and need and he delivers it with expertise.

I'm reluctant to pull away at the loud, obnoxious clapping but I do, thinking it's Haymitch. Instead, when I turn I see Castor leaning against a tree. Peeta jumps two inches in the air and away from me, redness creeping into his cream colored cheeks when he realizes it isn't our alcoholic mentor. Castors green eyes bore into my gray ones as he stares at me with something akin to disappointment.

"Cressida told me to collect you for a few pictures of you two, and a few kind gentlemen pointed me in your direction. But please, don't let me interrupt your love fest… I recall something about Peeta with his hand up your shirt?"

"Castor-" Peeta starts, but the older man raises his hand.

"Don't worry, I won't spoil the propaganda by exposing your lies," he sneers, pushing off the tree. He begins to march away, but he stops short, turning to look at me again. "I thought you and Haymitch were sincere, I actually thought you were just scared and denying feelings for him and that you actually cared about him more than just your mentor or good friend. I guess you're a better actress than what they make you out to be." And then he disappears into the brush of the wildlife. Peeta turns to look at me and sighs, picking up my game bag for me. I place my bow and sheath on my back before following the direction Castor went in. I leave my snares for someone else to discover.

When we come to the meadow, he is smiling and laughing with Cressida about something or the other. Pollux is filming the scenery with Haymitch pointing out different things for him to catch on camera. Cressida looks up when she sees me, waving. So he held true to his word.

"Oh, there you are sweetheart," Haymitch drawls. "You bolted out so quickly, I didn't know where you disappeared too. But I suppose you and Peeta were hunting together again?"

"Of course we were!" Peeta chuckles, clapping Haymitch on the shoulder and directing his attention back to Cressida. "Big guy here is jealous of me because I had her first."

"Not jealous," Haymitch hums. He says nothing more, but I can tell he's amused. Of course he's not jealous, he has nothing to be jealous of. He doesn't love me like Peeta does, he doesn't yearn for my affections like Peeta does. If anything, he's jealous of Plutarch.

"Well, the cameras aren't rolling anymore so let's sit down for a picnic? We're only in District 12 for the rest of today, I want to enjoy the scenery," Cressida says. Pollux signs something to Castor who signs back something that makes Pollux's face fall. He glances to us before sitting in the grass, his fingers fisting at the blades.

Castor turns off the camera for his brother and turns to Cressida.

"Oh dear, it seems as if I left the good stuff at the hotel," he winks. Cressida seems puzzled for a moment before she laughs, nodding.

"I'll go get it, it's not a far walk," she offers. He beams, kissing her cheek before she runs off towards the place in which they were staying. An awkward silence blankets our little group before Pollux angrily signs something to Castor.

"Agreed, little brother. We want the truth. Is the law helping you or not? And just what the hell are you all conspiring?" He asks. Peeta and I glance at each other, exchanging a silent conversation before Haymitch sighs.

"Lover boy doesn't want Katniss married off to some dick that won't let her see him or let him have his conjugal visits. Honestly, I'm just mentoring the Mockingjay one final time… for ten or so years."

"The last time you three conspired to fake a relationship, there was a rebellion, countless casualties, and apparently, a miscarried baby, which now that I think of it, I don't believe was real. You do realize the consequences of this are dangerous and eventually the entirety of Panem will find out," he hisses.

"Ot hair," Pollux chokes out, opening his mouth. I can see the ridged area where his tongue would be if he had one and I shudder to myself. This is what Darius went through when he was in the Capitol. A part of my subconscious silently thanks the law for the upcoming funding of his treatment. "Ot hair oo ay-hitch."

"Pollux, stop," Castor soothes. "You're not supposed to try and talk, it will hurt you. But he's right. This isn't fair to Haymitch. Say he does eventually want to marry and settle down. You two are too busy trapping him in a marriage he doesn't want that he can't do so."

"It's alright, I don't mind," Haymitch sighs, running a hand over his face. "No one wants to lay with me anyways. I'm a drunk."

"No, it's not alright, Haymitch. Wait about the nice girl that is forced onto Peeta? How do you think she'll feel to find out her husband is cheating on her with his supposed ex-lover? You two are being selfish," Castor scolds us. Pollux nods his arms crossed. Peeta and I exchange glances. We hadn't really thought about the other girl that he would be forced to raise children with. Hell, we hadn't really thought much of Haymitch in the situation. All we were thinking about is how we would yearn to be with each other.

Pollux signs something that even I understand. He had used it before, when going over propaganda about Avoxes. He had signed something to no one in particular, tears filling his blue eyes. When I'd asked Castor and Cressida about it, they had wiped their own tears and their faces had hardened.

_This ends now._

"Understand?" Castor asks, glaring at us. Peeta and I glance between each other, and Haymitch clears his throat. Always the talker when we couldn't talk.

"As much as I am grateful your sympathy, kid, I don't need it. This is between us and us only. I would appreciate it if you stayed out of our business and mind your own. Perhaps maybe you should be worrying about impregnating your wife with something that doesn't work," he hisses lowly. "Don't let the government find out about this, Castor. I would hate for something unfortunate to happen to you."

"You don't mean those threats," the red-head snaps. "You would never hurt Cressida that way."

"Of course I wouldn't!" Haymitch exclaims, chuckling. His eyes floats behind the man to where the blonde was bouncing towards them with a bottle of chardonnay and a collection of glasses. "She's my daughter, practically. But I have no problem with hurting a man that could possibly jail her!" Although his words are cruel, his voice is light and there is a friendly smile on his face.

Castor frowns before turning to accept Cressida into his lap. "Well, now the picnic can begin!"

* * *

><p>When the camera crew returned back to their hotel, Peeta, Haymitch and I retreated back to Peeta's home for dinner. When I went back to check my snares that I had set, I'm surprised to see they weren't stolen. I had even managed to capture two squirrels. Just enough for squirrel stew.<p>

Haymitch shoves a chunky potato in his mouth when he is served, the juice of the stew dribbling down his chin. "Good stew, Peeta," he says around his potato. The baker and I stare at my fiancé, watching as he slurps down his stew as if the exchange with Castor never occurred earlier.

"I've never seen you so nasty with someone," I say finally, when the silence has become strained with tension. "Haymitch, what happened back there?"

"I protected you two, sweetheart. Like I said, the Games never end. We still play the game of life, and if I have to protect you from your little secret being exposed, then that's what I have to do," he sighs, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Well… thank you," says Peeta eventually, mulling over his words before saying them. I can see there is a war going on behind those shiny sky blue eyes and I wince. He's going to say something I don't like, I just know it. "But Castor is right… we're not taking anyone else into consideration here. I mean… what about the girl that is forced love me and raise children with me? I don't think we should go through with this plan."

"What do you mean, boy?" Haymitch demands. Peeta takes a deep breath, running a hand over his face.

"I mean that, although you two should get married to protect each other, you shouldn't get married, to protect Katniss and I's relationship. I mean it's over between me and Katniss and there is nothing I can do about it."

"Peeta," I whisper, horrified. "You don't mean that." He couldn't possibly be serious. He was really going to throw everything we had, everything we'd been through away over some stupid law that tried to base couples off of love and force them to have children.

"Boy, you're not thinking straight," Haymitch snaps, downing all of his whiskey in one go. "You need to think harder about this before you go making any rash decisions."

"I'm not making any rash decisions," Peeta replies calmly. "I'm doing what I truly believe is right." Unable to hear anymore of his reasoning, I stand make my way to the front door, grabbing my coat as I leave the warm house. The chill of winter slaps me in the face as I make my way to the centre of the village, where I once sat with Prim to collect snow for Gale's tattered back.

"Oh little duck," I murmur, patting the down the soil surrounding the primroses that Peeta had also planted there. The flowers were wilted, the petals and leaves buried beneath the thick layers of snow. "When I need you most, you are gone."

And quietly I weep. Over the loss of my sister. Over the loss of my freedom to marry. Over the loss of my Peeta.


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Three**

**_You can close your eyes to the things you do not want to see, but you cannot close your heart to the things you do not to feel.  
>- Johnny Depp<em>**

The months without Peeta are the worst months in a long time to say the least. Haymitch refuses to share a bed with me in fears that while sleep and sober he would hurt me and Peeta refuses to be my rock and my sole source of comfort now that we have split. I am left to battle my demons alone at night, and they begin to creep into my day life as well, flashbacks and hallucinations plaguing me for the first time since Peeta had returned from the Capitol.

At night, all I am able to do is turn on the lamp and sit next to the door of Haymitch's spare bedroom, my eyes wide open and my body trembling. As the days wear on, more and more bags find themselves under my eyes and my sleep filled nights become few and far between as my ability to sleep wanes. Not to mention that in my catatonic state, I have begun to release my stress in the only way I know and that is by slicing my wrists and thighs to shreds with a blade I removed from Haymitch's razor. It doesn't help however, because whenever I register the blood all I see if Finnick's mangled and destroyed body or the spear piercing through little Rue's stomach, and the cycle starts again.

I can't say I'm the only one suffering however, for every night I hear Haymitch's loud and broken screams from either the downstairs couch or his room. Calls of Maysilee, Effie, Samira and eventually, myself begin to fill my nights until the screams are heard no more. It seems as if Haymitch Abernathy returns to drinking himself into a stupor to help him sleep.

Peeta's nightmares come back as well, and often times I hear him raging to invisible people about 'the mutt' and how 'she plans to kill us all'. Other times I can hear his strangled screams for me to run or for his family to get out of the bakery. The nights where he screams for his family are the worst, because those are the nights when he falls into blind rage in attempt to murder a hallucinatory me.

Without each other, we are not grounded and there is no longer our familiar bond to keep us sane. One could imagine my surprise when Peeta shows up at our door with a file.

"Peeta," I breathe, when I see him. Despite what I hear at night, he looks much healthier than Haymitch or myself, who have both lost quite a bit of weight and enough sleep to make us look old beyond our years. "What are you doing here? What is that?"

"This… is the document telling me of my new wife and family," he replies, holding up the file. What's left of my taped together heart shatters in my chest. So he was going through with our break-up and the law, despite how much it was damaging the three of us.

A shadow looms over me suddenly and I know Haymitch is behind me. My suspicions are confirmed when a calloused hand reaches over my shoulder and plucks the document out of Peeta's fingers. He opens the file, his eyes skimming it before he scoffs.

"Well, she's a looker that's for sure," he chuckles before stepping further into the house. Peeta pushes past me inside and I can see his own heart breaking in his eyes, as he takes in the desolate state of our existence. The house had remained untouched since the day of our break-up, except for a pile of blankets and pillow on the couch that marked where Haymitch occasionally slept.

Plopping in the couch, my 'fiancé' flips through the file. His eyes scan it up and down, reading it thoroughly before shaking his head. "So why did you bring it here? To rub it in your girlfriend- excuse me, ex-girlfriend's face? Or you want me to see just how good you're doing without us."

"I bought it here because I wanted to go over it with you both. I want you each to have active roles in my life, despite our shared past. I want to start over," Peeta murmurs, looking down.

"You abandoned me," I whisper, anger bubbling up in my veins. "You abandoned me in to soothe your burning conscience and you want to start over? I haven't had a decent night's sleep in over four months, Peeta because you are the only thing that puts me to sleep at night and the only thing that forces me to rise in the morning."

"What do you expect me to do?" Peeta snaps at me. "I can't change this dreaded law! I can't do anything about this! I'm sorry, but I just don't know what you expect from me!" His words hit me hard. He was right, but I didn't want him to be. I wanted to blame him for everything, I wanted to hate him. So I force myself to.

"Haymitch, this is my house too right?"

"Whatever sweetheart," he drawls. Nodding, I turn to Peeta and point my index finger towards the door.

"Get out," I whisper icily.

"Katniss-"

"Get out!" I say, louder this time. "And don't return here." Peeta stares at me, his eyes shattering and his spark of happiness slowly fading from his blue eyes until they appear dead and soulless.

"Is that what you truly want, Katniss?" He asks, his voice like a child asking his mother if she still loves him. I nod, my eyes adverting to the groun. I'm a coward. I can't even look him in the eyes. He clears his throat. "Very well then. You know where to find me if there is a change of heart." Then with that, he is out of the house the door slamming behind him. The sound resonates through the air until it hits me like a blow to the gut and I sink to my knees, burying my face in my hands and sobbing.

"Sweetheart, we'll get through this," Haymitch's voice says from above me. "It's just me and you now, and we'll get through this." I feel his presence next to me and his arms wrap around my shoulders and pull me into him. But my hands don't leave my face, and they begin to fill with the salty liquid of my tears.

I had lost my mother. I had lost Prim. I had lost Gale. I had lost Peeta. Who was next to leave me alone in this world?

Morning comes and goes and comes again as Haymitch and I slowly fill the days with drinking and cutting. With only each other to console each other and no one to show us any other way of living, we have only those things to keep us sane. Those things and each other.

* * *

><p>As the day of the press conference nears, Haymitch is the mature one that says we need to begin to prepare for our trip to the Capitol. Although I no longer wish to return, I am a woman of my word and so is Haymitch so we go through the motions of slowly patching ourselves together enough for us to appear presentable on camera. Peeta must call Greasy Sae, because she begins showing up with warm bowls of stew again and occasionally she'll bring along a loaf of bread and a bottle of liquor from Peeta's house.<p>

Each and every time, the bread goes stale and the liquor remains untouched. I'm not sure if it is Haymitch or me that decide that we do not want his charity… even if he really did nothing wrong in the first place.

I won't admit it of course, I just quietly find – and vent to Haymitch – reasons on why he deserves to be hated. One night, Haymitch chuckles and says, "I don't like self-righteous people." I laugh drily, the conversation we had when Peeta forced Haymitch into sobriety the first time coming to the fore front of my mind.

"What's there to like?" I respond. That night, we get so wasted we don't even remember how I wind up wearing his pants and sleeping in his bathtub.

It's a week before we board the train to the Capitol when Peeta shows up at our door again. Haymitch nor I answer, but we both sit against the door with our knees pressed to our chins so he doesn't see us. It's childish, I know, but I don't wish to see him. I'm still too busy brewing in unnecessary hate.

"I know you two are in there," he says when we never answer the door. "I just came to say that my soon-to-be-wife and I have agreed to meet in the Capitol a day early to acquaint ourselves. I'm leaving tonight and I wanted to let you know…" Peeta pauses, inhaling sharply. Haymitch glances to me, eyebrow half-cocked.

"When all is said and done with the press conference, I'll be returning to District 7 with her to live. I won't be returning to 12. I have sent all my things to our new home there, I just wanted to say goodbye. I wanted to say thank you and… I love you guys. Romantic or not, I'll forever love you. I have to go now, my train leaves in a few moments. Goodbye, Haymitch. Goodbye, Katniss." He lingers a little, and I begin to think he's considering breaking the door down when his footsteps in the snow retreat until we can't hear them anymore.

Rushing to the window, I watch as Peeta exits Victors Village, suitcase in hand and heart on his sleeve. When I swing open the door, there is a bouquet of fresh primroses lying on Haymitch's porch.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

**_When you stop chasing the wrong things, you give the right things a chance to catch you.  
>- Megan Fox<em>**

Stepping off the train, my emotions hit me full force. The city has almost been rebuilt to its old glamour, with towers and buildings touching the clouds and fancy cars milling about as if a war hadn't of occurred nearly three years ago. But it did, and that's all I can see as we drive through the Capitol towards the circle.

I begin to see that the population decrease is more noticeable here – quite a few apartment complexes we pass are empty and deserted, as if no one had ever lived there – and I finally understand why Paylor and Plutarch are so desperate for this law to work. The streets are full near the new aeroport that was built for more communal hovercrafts to travel across Panem, but as we delve deeper into the city, we find that they're emptier than before. There are no outrageously dressed people spending unnecessary money on unnecessary things.

That's another noticeable change, the fashion sense. What with Districts bringing their traditions and clothing here, the Capitolites have learned to tone down their own clothes considerably and leave their appearance looking somewhat presentable in District eyes. There are no more frivolous outfits that could feed an entire family for weeks, but simple sundresses and jeans. Although some of their hair is still dyed bright colors and they still have flamboyant tattoos and piercings, their clothing is muted and not as bright as before. For the first time in my four times visiting the Capitol, I have nothing degrading to say about them.

"It's changed," I breathe, as we begin to pull up to the considerably smaller presidential mansion. It's not even a mansion anymore – it looks more like a family townhouse, really. Haymitch shifts his hands on the steering wheel – Plutarch had a car rental for us during our stay here – and shrugs. I can tell that he's in the same amazement that I'm in.

"Yeah, they want to show they're not the same people anymore. They really _are_ trying to change," he nods, parking the car. He doesn't turn the ignition off however, the heat still warmly breathing on my face. Looking to him, I notice that he seems to be struggling with his words. "Katniss, everyone that participated in the war, that aided the war in any way possible, will be in that house with someone on their arm. Gale and Peeta included… actually, Gale and Peeta _especially_. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"Do I have a choice?" I ask bitterly. Haymitch lowers his eyes to his hand, where our new engagement ring is. He twists the ring on his finger, frowning before tugging at it a bit. The silver band is a size too large and it slides right off, resting in the palm of his hand.

"I can throw this out of this window, right here, right now and we can return home without anyone knowing we were here," he says after long pause. All I can do is stare at him, my heart shattering in my chest. Haymitch looks so conflicted. I know he doesn't want to go in there, but if I decide that I will go he'll be right behind me. He's still playing mentor, he's still playing the Game. This time, however, he's not going to force me to do anything I don't want to do. Haymitch is still protecting me, even in his smallest ways.

I falter a bit. Do I want to leave? _Of course._ Should I? _Absolutely not._ I can't just back down from this. There will be consequences, Mockingjay or not, if I do not participate with this damned law. And honestly, another rebellion just isn't on my agenda. I'm _tired_ of fighting. "Let's go," I say eventually.

"Alright then," Haymitch nods, slipping the ring back onto his finger. As we both exit the car and I pull my sweater tighter around me, my breaths appearing in small puffs in front of me. Although it's warmer in the Capitol, since it's further up north, the cold front still refuses to back down and it is quite chilly out. Haymitch laces his fingers with mine, not romantically but to assure me that at any moment, I can back down and he will be right on my heels.

He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze and we gather our courage to ring the doorbell to the house. Two officers stop us immediately, requesting identification and giving us a thorough pat down to make sure we don't have any weapons to attempt to assassinate our President. Haymitch flashes his dog tags – the ones they gave him while he worked in 13 to help him into the confidential places – and the officers step aside, allowing us entrance with respective bows.

One thing I am absolutely positive the Capitol didn't do was forget how to throw a party. And judging by the complete organization of it all, I can be comfortable in saying that a particular ex-escort planned it. Although the food is not over done and those god awful drinks that make one vomit are no longer present, the party is nice. It circulates throughout the entire home, the upstairs balconies filled with people laughing and probably venturing into the house.

I notice with excitement that plum and lamb stew has not left the menu, and my mouth begins to water. So there are a few positives to coming back to this place.

Venturing further into the house, we spot President Paylor talking happily with Johanna while Annie tries to keep her son from wandering too far from her side. He looks a lot like Finnick, I notice sadly, and he even has the same slightly flirtatious dimpled smile that his father _always_ flashed, genuine or not. He's inherited the mannerisms even though he's never met the man. My heart shatters at what Annie goes through on a daily basis, looking at boy that so closely resembles her passed lover.

Looking over, Paylor spots us and waves, her smile broadening a bit. She excuses herself from Johanna, who waves as well before the boy grabs her fingers and drags her towards the buffet table. Mentally, I make a note to seek them out later before the press conference. Haymitch's grip on my hand becomes vice as he pulls me towards Paylor, his mouth stretching into a forced smile.

"Well, well! Look at you two!" She says, hugging us each. I hug back, but never release Haymitch's hand, in fear that if I do I will drown in still vivid memories. "What a nice couple you make. I was quite surprised when Plutarch told me of your relationship. I can see now he wasn't yanking my tail."

"Yes, well, this is quite the glittering assemblage, Paylor. Who helped you put it together?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. Paylor smiles at us warmly and points across the room, where Effie stands with her baby in her arms, laughing with Plutarch about something or another. Haymitch stiffens beside me, and if possible, his grip becomes tighter on my hand.

"We both know what lovely woman managed to pull this together. She managed to keep it modest and beautiful. We have to admit, the woman has taste," Paylor smiles, looking around proudly. So she doesn't know about Haymitch's affections for our ex-escort, or else she wouldn't have brought up Effie.

"Yes, well, Effie's always had a knack for making everything shine," I say, when I notice Haymitch is fighting his inner demons. He's in no place to hold a proper conversation anymore, leaving me to be the functioning conversationalist. "I must say, however, I was quite distressed at learning of her… unfortunate destruction during her time spent in prison. I don't know how the woman holds it together, but she is quite the strong one."

"Agreed… ah, speak of the devil and she shall call. I'll return soon," Paylor says, before striding towards Effie who had begun beckoning her ferociously. I turn to tell Haymitch something but someone places their hands over my eyes, chuckling lightly.

My heart seems to stop and time comes to a screeching halt. Different emotions begin to bubble to the surface – anger, sadness, longing, regret – and I force myself to keep from letting them arise. "Guess who," a familiar gravelly voice says.

"Gale," I whisper, prying his fingers away from my eyes and turning to face him. He's changed since I last saw him, but everything's changed in my three years I spent locked in District 12. He looks much manlier – if that was at all possible – with itchy looking stubble on his chin and a wiser look in his eyes. It seems as if he's gotten taller, as he now towers over me and he's gained a bit of weight from the toothpick thin soldier I fought in a war with. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise."

"Pleasant surprise, _indeed_. How have you been? No one's heard from you for nearly three entire years, it was like you dropped off the face of the earth," Gale exaggerates. I shrug, and beside me Haymitch's grip slackens and his thumb rubs the back of my hand, in an attempt at soothing me.

"I was battling some things," I finally say. Satisfied with my answer – either that, or he doesn't want to pry – Gale turns and reaches for someone, a blue-haired girl who had been chatting with a group of women. She giggles as he twirls her and pulls her into him, his face nuzzling her hair. Haymitch drops my hand and wraps a protective arm around my waist. _Its okay, sweetheart, _I can practically hear him soothing.

"I want you to meet someone. Allura, this is my cousin Katniss. Katniss, this is my fiancé Allura," he introduces. Allura smiles at me, and I notice just how obvious the contrast between us is. Her eyes are bright teal and soft, her smile full and whole. The only thing that marks her as even slightly imperfect, is her stomach swollen with pregnancy.

"Hi," she says, extending her hand. "It's so nice to meet you finally. Gale showed me so many pictures and told me so many tales, not to mention you're quite famous back in District 2. I was just too excited to get to know you."

"The feeling is mutual," I force out, taking her hand and shaking it. "Ah, Gale, I'm sure you remember Haymitch?" Gale's eyes darken noticeably and his smile wavers before locking back into place. He bobs his head in acknowledgement.

"Of course! The man played your father for _years_! How could I forget? Is this your new spouse?" Haymitch glares at Gale, who seems to not notice just how offended we are. It was a low blow, pointing out the large age difference as if we didn't already know. Instead of pointing it out however, I stand on the tips of my toes to kiss Haymitch's cheek. He moves however and catches my lips in his, smiling into my mouth.

"Does that answer your question?" He asks, when I pull away for air. A playful smirk is on his lips, the same one he got when teasing me about something or another. Gale nods, exhaling through his nose before nodding.

"Well, that's just delightful," he says. I can see him glance around on purpose, searching for a certain blonde-haired man who should be at my side. "And where's Peeta?" He asks, when unable to spot him.

"He's found another," I say drily, not sure to how else to answer him. Gale's eyes glisten a bit, mischief appearing before his girlfriend tugs his hand, attempting to be discreet as she continues to smile at Haymitch and I.

"Haymitch, you remember me right?" She asks, changing the subject. Haymitch nods and sighs, running a hand over her face. "I haven't seen you since the night I won my Games; it's so good to see a familiar face around these parts."

"Yeah, sure," he sighs before kissing my nose. "I'm going off to get some punch, would you like some?" I can tell that he's trying to impress Gale and look like the perfect gentleman. He doesn't want me to feel as if Gale got the lucky draw.

"Yes please," I reply, instead of reminding him that the punch has alcohol in it and I'm not drinking until we're behind some closed doors. Gale glances between Allura and I, frowning before he nods. A charming smile is pulled on and detaches himself from his girlfriend.

"I believe I'll go with him. You two ladies don't wander off now," he chuckles, winking. She waves after him, smiling until she's sure he's out of earshot. Once they are gone, Allura clears her throat and her smile falls down into a pitying look.

"So, you will be with the Capitol famous Haymitch Abernathy," she says, attempting conversation. "You do know what his nickname used to be, right?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," I respond brusquely, even though I'm intrigued. Allura giggles, placing her perfectly manicured hand over her mouth.

"Long Haul Haymitch," she murmurs before laughing again. "Oh dear, when he was on the market everyone pined after him. A night with ol' Long Haul Haymitch and you won't walk right for another week. Oh yes, he was quite popular until he fell into the bottle."

"I'm sorry?" I ask, my cheeks tinting red. She couldn't possibly be trying to tell me of my future husbands past sex life could she? It was simply not something I wanted to hear about with so many open ears around.

"Oh yes! You are in for a pleasant surprise on your wedding night," she whispers, when she sees both Haymitch and Gale sauntering back over to us. I can't even look the man in the eye when he hands me my drink, and when he grabs my hand to drag us away from Allura and Gale, I flinch.

"What's gotten into you?" Haymitch asks, leading me to the long table in which some of the Victors were already sitting. The conference wasn't for another hour or so, but he decided we should claim our seats now because he didn't want to stand for another hour.

"Nothing," I reply, sipping my punch in hopes they used something strong. I am greatly disappointed, but my face lifts again when Haymitch removes a flask filled with cognac. He laces our drinks with the alcohol before tucking it back into his jacket, winking at me. Closed doors be damned, I need a drink.

"So, Long Haul Haymitch, eh?" I murmur into my cup. Beside me, I notice Haymitch freeze mid-sip, his eyes widen a little bit. I laugh under my breath, happy to have lightened the mood a bit. As uncomfortable the topic is, we're both battling some pretty unfortunate thoughts and could use a good distraction. "I've heard some… wild stories about you, my dear fiancé."

"Allura right? Of course she told you. I'm going to kill her," he scoffs. "I'm going to twist that petite little neck in a 360 degree angle, I bloody swear."

"So what was she talking about?" I inquire. "Where did you get _that_ from?"

"I was… I _am_, a bit promiscuous," he chuckles. "Back during my times where I came to the Capitol for the Games, I would get shit-faced drunk and take the nearest person to my bed. Sometimes it was Effie, sometimes it was another Victor… hell, on multiple occasions it was one of the male victors or some guy from a bar."

"And?"

"And? Oh, well apparently the sex was bearable. Some called it the best they'd ever had, some couldn't speak afterwards, and some said it okay or good. But I was never told I didn't know what I was doing."

"You? Some kind of whore? Excuse me if I don't believe you," I scoff. Haymitch leans close to my ear, so close that his stubble brushes against my earlobe. I shiver, but I'm not quite sure why.

"You can't possibly believe that all those screams you heard coming from my house were _mine_," he whispers, before going back to his drink. I shudder and feel the heat rushing to my face. Not even I can come up with a witty remark for that. _Haymitch Abernathy, whore._ It doesn't settle right on my tongue, has a funny taste. If it were someone like Johanna, Gale… hell even Peeta, it wouldn't be as unbelievable. They're all young and beautiful; people would literally kill for a night with them. But Haymitch? I can't see myself – or anyone else for that matter – ever wanting to be with him other than a friend. It makes me dread our wedding night even _more_.

After that little conversation, we are quiet except for the odd remark of compare and contrast between old and new Capitol. The hour begins to pass agonizingly slow because surprisingly enough, not many want to come speak with me or Haymitch. At some point however, Johanna and Annie take their seats next to us and Johanna begins to find her amusement by making raunchy jokes about loaves and alcohol bottles, a few puns about how 'Peeta made me the girl on fire'. I ignore them, but occasionally a few will slice too deep and I will drink from Haymitch's half-full glass because I have emptied mine. Annie and Haymitch make small talk, Haymitch asking about the reconstruction of District 4 and Annie asking questions about how the law has affected our home.

Listening to them, a realization hits me hard. For a long time, I saw Finnick's lover as helpless. But watching her talk with Haymitch like everything is fine and she didn't win the Games, go through a rebellion or give birth to a baby that remarkably reminds her of the life she could have had… well, it makes me see Annie in a whole new light. She is not helpless. She is a bit broken and not at all perfect, but she is _not_ helpless. Quietly, I berate myself for seeing her as so.

Even Johanna exudes a new aura. Although she was the closest thing I had to a feminine friend during the war, I always saw her as angry at the world and furious at nothing. I never said she didn't have a right to be, but at the time I saw her as passive aggressive without knowing exactly why. But now that I too have basically lost my entire family too, – my mother abandoned me, my sister is dead, the man I saw as a brother for so long left me, and my lover is gone as well – I can see why. I hate that I took so long to understand her pain, because you can never truly be grateful for someone's smile until you've been on the brink of never seeing it again. But she's happier now, she smiles more and the angry lines around her mouth have faded.

I can't help but swell with pride at how well they both are doing, as if I am some sort of mother.

"… put his mouth on the rim of your bottle," Johanna jokes as President Paylor takes the microphone. The remaining rebels that hadn't already taken their seats do so, and Haymitch tenses next to me when Annie is forced to move from her seat next to him so Effie and her new family can sit. Silence falls over the crowd, so quiet that I could hear a pin drop if I listened carefully enough.

Peeta takes his spot next to me, a beautiful brunette with shiny green eyes and candy apple colored lips next to him. She seems uninterested, with a small pout on her lips, but her displeasure only grows when she finds who she's being forced to sit with.

_They've sat the team together,_ I note drily. _How pleasant._

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please settle down because The Boom Law Press Conference will now begin. I will go down the line, introducing everyone on our panel who has attended," Paylor announces. She starts with the first duo, Beetee and his wife. Beetee has aged remarkably since I last saw him, and he no longer needs his wheelchair. Gray hairs stick out from his beard and when he smiles there are visible crows feet.

"Beetee and Ramona Latier, all the way from District 3." The audience respectively claps, but Beetee doesn't get a wild acknowledgement. Makes sense, not many know just exactly how much he helped us during the rebellion.

"Plutarch and Euphemia Heavensbee, accompanied by their daughter Marlette." The applause is a bit louder this time, for people knew exactly just how helpful Plutarch was. Without him, we really wouldn't be sitting here today. I'm sure some it is for Effie, but mostly Plutarch is noticed.

"Haymitch and Katniss Abernathy, who are also known as our Mockingbird and Mockingjay." I correct her with 'Everdeen' but the wolf whistles, thunderous applause and the few people yelling our names drowns out my protest. I sink lower in my chair. I do not deserve such welcoming recognition. I do not deserve these citizens admiration.

"Peeta and Briar Mellark, also known as our Jabberjay and our Eyes in the Capitol." And back to respective clapping. The broadcasts the Snow forced Peeta into did not go unnoticed, and Peeta lost a lot of loyal followers during his time spent imprisoned. But Briar seems to be well respected. A part of me can't help but notice her hair is the same shade of mine and her gray eyes are only a shade darker.

"Johanna Mason and Annie Cresta," Paylor says. The crowd looks confused as to who they are, but clap anyways.

"Er, it's Annie Mason," Johanna corrects loudly, when it dies down. I wish I had thought of that. Paylor smiles at them and nods apologetically, scribbling something on her notes before clearing her throat.

"Of course, I'm sorry for the mix-up. Here we have my own fiancé, Daryl," she pauses to smile at the man, who is tall looking with wild chartreuse eyes. "And last but certainly not least, Gale and Allura Hawthorne." Gale gives a small incline of his head and Paylor beams at each of us. The crowd hoots and hollers, and the vain part of me screams it's because of his associates with me.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. We'll all be taking your questions now." Paylor takes a seat next to her husband and waits patiently. Slowly, one by one, reporters begin to raise their hands. When the one closest to the stage raises his hand, she calls on him and he stands, accepting his microphone from the nearby officers.

"This is for Haymitch, Katniss and Peeta," he announces, his eyes falling to his notes before clearing his throat. "Peeta, it is no secret that you and Katniss were once in love. How do you feel about being with your mentor? Are you uncomfortable with the age difference? Katniss, is there any reason you chose Haymitch to be with? Haymitch, are you alright with Katniss and Peeta's past together and do you trust Peeta with her?" The three of us look between each other and Haymitch decides to speak first.

"I don't believe Peeta and Katniss have feelings for each other anymore, or else I wouldn't be here," he says calmly. "So I can trust Peeta around Katniss and trust Katniss around Peeta. Besides, in 12, infidelities are punishable by death for the woman and a man having his testicles removed. I don't believe they'll be doing any messing around behind my back." The audience chuckles, some taking notes other raise their hands, practically jumping out of their seats to be called on. But I still haven't answered.

"As for myself," I begin. "There is no one else I trust to spend my nights with. Haymitch was an obvious choice after Peeta left me." The audience furiously scribbles that down, and Peeta looks to me wearily. He can tell what card I'm playing – I'm trying to make him look bad. I'm still angry with him for just abandoning us in 12. I'm still upset that he left me in that desolate house to drinking and inject my sorrows away.

"To clarify, I did not leave her," he reports, with venom in his tone. I flinch, and Haymitch grabs my hand under the table. Peeta has never sounded so cold towards me, not even when he was hijacked. The temperature decidedly drops as he continues. "Her affairs with our mentor drove me away. If I have any feelings for her being with Haymitch, my main one is disgust. And to answer your quest, the age difference does make me uncomfortable but I am never one to judge. All I wish is the best for Katniss, and if being with a man that used to stand as her father makes her happy, then so be it." I launch to my feet at his words, appalled and shocked. He's playing it off as if it were all Haymitch and I, as if we are the bad guys here. He just went as far as to lie about me sleeping around with Haymitch.

"It was your idea!" I spit at him, my eyes watering with anger. I tremble, white hot fury finding their way into my emotions. Part of my anger is still directed onto him for leaving me, but now I have a reason to be angry. He's blatantly lying, and he's so good with his words he'll be believed.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Peeta says, blankly. Haymitch is now standing as well, his hand on my bicep.

"You… you… you liar!" I shout at him. Peeta remains with that same blank expression on his face. I turn to Paylor, tears dripping down my face. "I'm sorry, I can't do this." With a final apologetic look, I turn on my heel and run off the panel and out the back door. I hate to admit I'm relieved to hear Haymitch's footsteps not far behind.

**Peeta's behavior will be explained, just not immediately. So what do you think is wrong? Leave it below ^-^ Pip pip cherrio.**


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

**_A guy's biggest mistake is giving another guy the opportunity to make his girl smile.  
>- Unknown<em>**

Haymitch and I don't stay for the ceremonies, or the mass wedding that is to be held in the Capitol. We catch the first train back to District 12 and have our own little private toasting in his dusty fireplace. I don't want to think tonight, and the alcohol he keeps feeding me isn't ruining my thoughts quite enough. I want to forget, and it's not working. So I try my other option. Haymitch isn't too thrilled about the choice, but we'd rather escape the events of the conference, and cutting won't help me right now.

After loading the crate of morphling vials my mother used to keep under her bed into the house, I shed my clothes in the hallway, picking one of Haymitch's dirty threadbare shirts off the floor and pulling it over my head. If I'm going to do the one thing I promised myself never to do, then I'm going to do this as someone else. I won't be Katniss, I'll pretend that Katniss is back at Peeta's house, curled up with him and listening fondly to his silly jokes. Hell, I'll pretend that Katniss is dead and she died with Peeta's love.

The cool air hits my legs immediately and I shiver, going to start a fire in the hearth. It's a lousy excuse for a fire, but it eventually warms my body so it will do. The house is dead silent, the only sound is Haymitch clinking around with kitchen as he prepares our dose of poison. I inject myself -pushing the memories of forced sedation from my head - and call out for Haymitch to hurry before my buzz wears off. He pauses in the doorway to the kitchen, a small smirk tugging at his lips before he hands me my glass and goes to sit on the couch. "So we're officially a couple then," he smirks.

"What do you mean?" I ask, taking a long sip from the glass. The drinks sets my throat on fire and I cringe at the irony. Now there's a definition of the girl on fire.

"Well, you're wearing my shirts. What's next, you going to go out in public wearing my boxers, sweetheart?" He teases. I feign like I'm really mulling it over before shrugging.

"Maybe. If you're a good pet." Haymitch's eyes darken and he falls silent before shaking his head and sipping from the bottle of bourbon.

"Oh, so now I'm your pet?" He asks.

"Is there something wrong with being my pet, Abernathy?" I ask, attempting my best seductive voice. The morphling is doing a fine job and killing my thoughts and I can't help but enjoy the little banter we've got going on. We haven't teased each other since before the announcement.

"Nothing at all, mistress," he drawls, before taking another long drag from the bottle. "And what does a good pet do?" I freeze, his words catching me off guard. But then I relax. It's Haymitch. He doesn't want to… well… do that. So I toss him a vial of morphling and my used needle.

"A good pet shoots up with me so I don't feel like a druggie. Hop to it, pet," I sneer. Haymitch mimics a half-bow from his spot sitting on the couch and goes through the motions of injecting the liquid into his veins. Laying his head back, he sighs loudly.

"This feels good." I snort in agreement.

"Better than sex, I'd say." His eyes snap open at that, one dark eyebrow arched perfectly.

"Nothing is better than sex. You've never been fucked."

"I have had sex!" I protest, because the haunting smile on his lips reminds me of that look Finnick and Johanna gave me when they teased me during the Quarter Quell. Like I'm pure, like I'm innocent. "I slept with Gale sometime before he went on the mission to retrieve Peeta. And I slept with Peeta countless times." Haymitch rolls his eyes.

"Yes, I know that. I know that you've had sex, I never said you didn't. I said that you've never been fucked."

"I don't follow." Haymitch sighs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It irritates me.

"You've never had someone shove you against the wall so hard that your back bruises. You've never had handprints on your ass because you were naughty, or had someone bite so hard that they leave marks and draw blood. You've never been fucked into oblivion, so hard to where you think you're about to faint. You've had sex. But you've never been fucked. Because someone who's been fucked would never say morphling is better than sex. Trust me." I stare at him, at the dark cloud that gathers behind his eyes again and recognize it finally. Lust.

I feel bold, so I ask, "Well, Haymitch, if I were to be fucked, how would you go about doing so?" I ask. He stiffens, noticeably, and I know that was a daring move. It's just that what he says sounds a lot similar to forgetting, and if being properly 'fucked' as he says it, will make me forget, then by all means let him do the honors.

"I don't believe you want to know the gory details," he murmurs lowly, looking at me through half-lidded eyes. I cross the living room and climb onto the couch next to him before I straddle his lap, my hair making a curtain over our faces. I feel something poke at my bottom and I fight the blush creeping into my cheeks.

"Be a good pet and tell me," I snarl, my voice nothing but a whisper. "What do you want to do to me Haymitch?" I can see the battle in his eyes, like he wants to make a move but is afraid to do so. I want to assure him, want him to know that I want this right now. So I kiss him. It's nothing but a soft peck, but it's like a trigger.

"Well, since you insist. I know for sure that since you've been the dominant one for so long," he flips us to he's on top of me, with my back pressed against the couch. The air is knocked out of me as I hit the couch hard but before I have time to take a breath, Haymitch's teeth are pulling. My neck, my bottom lip, my earlobes. His mouth is on my collar bone when he chuckles. "you would want to be dominated. I know that you would want to submit to me."

"I would scratch," each of his words is accompanied by an action, his nails scraping down my sides as he kisses me. "Bite," his mouth comes back to my neck and he bites, leaving a mark. "Make you beg for it."

"But of course," he sighs, pulling away and sitting back up. His hands move to cup my face and his next kiss is tender. It's soft and full of unspoken emotions, but it's no kiss like I've ever had. Nothing that I've shared with Gale or Peeta. This is different. This is _real_. "I would _never_ hurt you."

"But I want you to," I whisper. "I want _you_ to, as crazy as it sounds. Pain is the only thing I feel anymore; I might as well enjoy some pleasure with it." I kiss his cheek and his eyes flit to me.

"You really want _me_ to make love to you?" he asks, an eyebrow quirked.

"No!" I snap, before groaning in annoyance. Of course I don't want that. People were always trying to love me, trying to treat me like some little girl who's just oh-so _fragile_. I wanted to _forget_. I wanted to forget more than any morphling or drink could allow. I wanted to forget into _someone else's body_. "I don't want you to make love to me. I want you to _fuck_ _me_." Haymitch seems to fight it, to struggle against my wants. It's the same battle he had only moments ago. I can tell he's trying to restrain himself, because the bulge in his pants is increasing in length by the minute and he wants me.

I guess he gives up on fighting, because soon my legs are wrapped around his waist as his finger rubs me through the thin fabric of my panties. He leans a little too much to the left and we fall off of the small couch and onto the floor. My back hits the cold hardwood floor and I cough at the impact.

"Haymitch," I whisper, when his teasing is getting too much. His fingers mimic like they're going to remove my panties but then dance away, leaving me yearning for his touch. "Haymitch I… I…"

"What do you want sweetheart?" He asks, feeling at the moisture that had gathered on my underwear. "What do you want me to do?"

"Haymitch, take me," I demand. "I want you to take me. Please, take me as yours." I realize through my drug muddled thoughts that I'm doing exactly what he wants me to and I'm begging, but I can't seem to care. I want him, and I want him _now_.

"You want to hear what else I would do, sweetheart?" He asks, tugging at my underwear. "I would rip your panties off, somewhat like this." His hand grabs at the hem and he yanks, my underwear tattering as they rip from my body. The cool air of the house hits my sex and I gasp. "And I would make you scream." Two thick fingers plunge into me without warning and scream I do. I scream and writhe and scratch at his chest because my thoughts are gone and there is nothing left but feral instinct.

"_Haymitch_," I groan, as he slowly moves up and down with his hand. His fingers return to the taunting he had been demonstrating on me earlier, giving me the release I need and then taking them away before I can get to the edge. "_Please_."

"As you wish, sweetheart," he drawls. Then with that, another finger is working my body. I arch my back, his name falling from my lips. I want to scream, but I won't give him the pleasure again. Haymitch's fingers work, moving and spreading inside of me, each time hitting that special spot that Peeta _never_ hit. I hadn't known that spot existed, but now that I do I don't ever want him to stop hitting it.

As his hands continue, I slowly begin to fall to my edge. Haymitch removes his hand and licks it clean, wrapping his tongue around each finger before bringing his mouth down and giving my folds one tantalizingly long lick. And then suddenly it's like I'm floating on air, on nothing, flying upward to touch the sun. It's so beautiful that I feel the tears spring into my eyes and fall down my cheeks. My body shakes, the orgasm slicing through me. Haymitch's mouth stops moving for a moment and I groan. And then, it just… stops. His presence is gone, his warmth is gone, leaving me for nothing. I'm falling as I reach for him; attempt to get him to come back so I can have my cloud nine feeling back.

"Sweetheart," he whispers. His thumb brushes against my cheek, removing the tears that had dropped there. When they keep coming, he leans down and kisses them away, gentle even after such a wild moment. "Sweetheart, are you alright?"

"I've never," I breathe, pulling his mouth to mine. Our lips crash together, our mouths and tongues struggling to find their place, their dominance over the other. When he pulls away, everything is sharper and brighter and I feel dizzy. It's strange, how not even morphling can give me this happiness. "I've never had an orgasm… not in that way."

"In what way?" He asks, a smirk on his lips. He's pleased because he knows he's won.

"All along, I thought being drunk… having morphling was better than sex."

"Oh, so you're agreeing that you've never been laid properly?" He asks. I shake my head and he chuckles drily, easing himself down next to me before wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into him. "Shame that Peeta wasn't doing his job… especially with such a treasure like you." His eyes widen and I stare up at him. Haymitch Abernathy, ex-playboy and general District slut, thinks that _I_ am a treasure?

"I said nothing," he whispers, burying his face into my hair. I sigh contently, turn to face him and curl into him like a child would his mother and planting my lips on the corner of his mouth.

"I want to go again," I murmur. "Let's go again, right now. This time I'll make you feel like I did."

"Firstly, sweetheart, unless Peeta was a damned fool to walk out on you, there's no way _I_ can feel that way. Sex is old news to me, I don't think I've felt anything in an orgasm since I was fifteen. Secondly, you're tired, high and drunk. You'll regret it in the morning… hell; you'll regret _this_ in the morning. Go to sleep, sweetheart." Nodding my head, I begin to obey his advice. It's right before I doze off that it hits me.

_Haymitch never said he'd regret this._

* * *

><p>I awake to warm sunlight bathing my face and warming my body, making everything feel fuzzy and comfortable. I turn to look at Peeta, to kiss him and tell him of my awful dream, but I don't find Peeta. I don't find anyone, but cold, yellow and musty sheets. Not mine or Peeta's, but Haymitch's.<p>

Bits and pieces of the previous night hit me like a slap to the back of the head and I gasp. I remember Haymitch, and him touching me. I remember feeling like I've never felt before. I remember feeling like I was soaring through the sky.

_So why am I here, alone?_

The smell of bacon and freshly scrambled eggs wafts through my nose and I breathe a sigh of relief. He didn't leave me. Haymitch didn't abandon me. He went to make breakfast for me. Pulling his shirt back on, I leave his room. Taking the stairs two at a time, a welcoming sight causes me to pause at the landing.

Haymitch is in the kitchen with nothing on but his boxers. His back muscles contracts with each movement, and I can see the scars of a whipping. When was Haymitch ever whipped? Another thing I notice is that he is surprisingly muscled for a man of such abuse over the years. He isn't chiseled like Gale or a beef-cake like Finnick or Peeta, but he has enough muscle. Enough to carry me up a flight of stairs, at least. The only thing that would tell someone he isn't fit is the slight beer gut he has accumulated over the years.

"Enjoying the view, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks, looking at me over his shoulder. My dream from the night I was with Peeta slaps me in the face and I half expect two bubbly children to run into view. When they don't, I shrug, going to stick my hand in my pockets but realize that I'm wearing his shirt. Instead I settle for the two holes on the side of it.

"How did you know I was here?" I ask, moving towards him. Haymitch chuckles.

"You were panting like a dog in heat," I flush. Of course, I was looking at him like something I could devour. "Sit down, I made bacon, eggs and toast." Looking over, I notice only two pieces of bacon are in the stove.

"You?" I ask, gesturing to the pan. He looks down at the bacon and shrugs.

"Vegetarian." I raise an eyebrow, realizing just how much I don't know about my mentor. In my mind, I count off everything I do know about my mentor._ He is labeled as a whore. He is vegetarian. He won the 50th Hunger Games. His girlfriend, mother and brother were killed by Presodent Snow. He had an affair with Effie_

Desperately, I rake my brain for something, anything else. But I know nothing of my mentor. And that unnerves me.

"Sweetheart," Haymitch says eventually, taking a seat across from me. He spikes his coffee with gin, and takes a long drag before nodding to me. " Listen to me. And I don't want you to interrupt me until I'm done. Last night… I did something that I really shouldn't have. I took advantage of you, and your inebriated state. You were hurting and I acted on my own selfish needs in a moment of lust. I will not ask for your forgiveness, because what I have done is unforgivable. But I won't say I regret it either. I'm not going to lie and say that I didn't enjoy watching you unravel because of me. Because I did. And if you were to ask me right now, I would do it in a heartbeat. I won't say I'm sorry, because I'm not." He finishes with a slight nod, pleased with his choice of words.

"Haymitch…" I whisper, unable to do much else than stare. Partially because I'm noticing how incredibly handsome he is. Mostly because his words give me more relief than absolutely necessary. "I… I would enjoy that, sometime. Not anytime soon, of course. I want to wait a few months... if you don't mind?"_ It's not love_, I tell myself as I say the words._ It's not love, it's two broken people putting themselves back together._

Haymitch nods his head and smiles at me. "I won't force you into anything, and I agree that we should wait a while... a few months is good, before we have sex again."

"Of course," I nod. We both smile at each other after that, warmth flooding through us. When I thought about marrying Haymitch, my main fear was destroying not only Peeta but destroying Haymitch. But maybe he's already too broken to be destroyed. Maybe he's indestructible. Maybe this forced marriage just may work.

**So a little poorly written Hayniss smut. R&R as per usual and thanks.**


	8. Chapter Seven

**A/N: Every day I am astounded by the amount of response HL receives. I love each and everyone of my follows, favorites, reviews. You guys mean so much to me, and I intend to take HL far. So this is where the story picks up a little, I hope you enjoy. In this chapter, I actually used something that everyone knows so yeah.**

**Chapter Seven**

_**If you truly love something let it go, and if it loves you it will come back  
>- Unknown<strong>_

It has been twenty-eight days since I've last spoken to Peeta when he first calls our house. Haymitch answers the phone, asks if I want to speak with him, and when I say no, hangs up. Peeta then immediately calls again. Haymitch stops answering when he calls. These goes on for about a week or so, until eventually he stops calling altogether. During that week, a piece of me shatters every time the phone rings.

"They figured out why Peeta acted the way he did at the conference," Haymitch says one afternoon, sitting next to me on our bed. I look up at him, awaiting an explanation. "A part of his brain is irretrievable from the tracker jacker poison, and it still stuck in that stage where they wiped his memories of you for a clean slate. When you made that comment about him abandoning you, that part of his brain shut off and he reacted to you as if he didn't know what happened after the rebellion. That's why he was so upset about you blaming him. Apparently whenever you hurt him, that will happen and it lasts for a few days. He just recently saw the taping of how he acted towards you... he feels so guilty. He's been trying to apologize."

"So it wasn't his fault?" I ask, my voice nothing above a squeak. God, I hate how weak I sound. Haymitch shakes his head, and I bury my face between my knees. "I've been positively awful to him over something he couldn't control."

"If it makes you feel better, your relationship wouldn't have lasted long anyways. You have a habit of burning people if they try to get near your flames, he would have blanked out on you often. Eventually, you would have done something pretty bad and he would have lost it for good. Basically, it's the Snow's last 'screw you'."

I whimper in response and Haymitch pulls me into him. I could really go for some morphling or alcohol right now, but Greasy Sae poured all our alcohol down the drain and smashed our vials of morphling, forcing us to kick our vices. She only did it because she found me shivering, naked, and high in a back alley behind the Hob. We were only recently coming off our withdrawal, our bodies still nothing but skin and bones.

Haymitch's smell of expensive cologne and pine soothes me as I cry into his chest, my snot and tears probably ruining his shirt. He had basically just told me I had false hopes when loving Peeta anyways. That everytime I hurt Peeta - which would have been often - he would have forgotten who I was or what we'd been through together. I would have never had my Peeta one hundred percent, and I would have ruined him for good.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," Haymitch sighs, kissing the top of my head. "I'm so, very sorry."

_It has been thirty-five days since I last saw Peeta when I give up on him._

* * *

><p>Haymitch's body becomes my new vice, my new way of forgetting once I've kicked the morphling and drink completely. He becomes the only way I'll go to sleep at night, the only thing that will keep me asleep and the only thing that will wake me up. He becomes my everything, but in an entirely different way than Peeta was my everything. He becomes my everything in the way where without him, I would just turn back to drugs and alcohol.<p>

Be becomes my pet in so many senses and I lose the ability to care.

After the first week of using his body as my personal escape, I learn to ignore the pained look in his eyes every time I force myself on him. Apparently, when he said he'd like to fuck again, he meant on his own terms, with his own boundaries. But I don't care that I'm destroying him, I just want to get what I want from him so I can forget.

"What happened to waiting a few months, honey?" Haymitch asks, when I roll off of him one night, sweating, breathing hard and trembling from another extraordinary orgasm.

"I don't hear you complaining," I snap, reaching for his sweatshirt. I pull it over my head in a huff and collapse next to him, curling under the sheets and into his side.

"I just did," he deadpans. I stare at him for a bit, and although I know what he means, I choose to take the route that makes him look bad. I don't why I have a vendetta to make him feel awful every time he says something to me. Maybe it's my way of coping.

"I'm sorry," I clip sarcastically. "I know I'm hideous Haymitch, you don't have to beat around the bush about it. I get that that I'm not the best partner, I'm under-experienced and-"

"That's not what I'm saying, Katniss, and you know damn well that's not what I'm saying. You're going to destroy yourself if you keep this up," he sighs, but wraps an arm around my waist anyways. I tangle our legs together, and my fingers weave through his hair. That's our relationship, we love to hate each other.

"You mean to tell me I can drink and use drugs, but I can't sleep with one person? You have terrible priorities old man," I sneer at him. Haymitch groans, untangles our limbs and pushes himself up, the sheets falling to reveal his still swollen and hard member. The mans libido was incredibly strong, he was almost always ready to have sex. A good thing, I suppose, considering the way I use him.

"That's not what I mean! You're not using protection! Katniss, you could be pregnant!" He insists reaching for and tugging on his underwear. He's standing now, his bullet gray eyes glaring me down. I stand too, not one to be one-up'd.

"Isn't that what this stupid law wants?" I shout back at him, raising my hands before letting them fall and place themselves on my hips. Haymitch scoffs.

"You don't get it, do you? You don't understand. Neither you nor I are mentally capable to raise a child. Not mention you are doing things to me-"

"You can say 'sex', Haymitch. I'm not twelve." I roll my eyes. He was treating me like a little girl, like some child that just didn't understand. Well I did understand. I had been through two Hunger Games, a war and lost the love of my life and I was only twenty-two. If anything, I understood perfectly.

"Not those types of things, Katniss! You're making me fall in love with you!"

_There have been forty-nine days since I've last spoken with Peeta when I realize I'm breaking my mentor's heart._

**_A/N: Meh,_ a little short filler chapter for you, something to take me into the next chapter. .This is still slow burn, don't worry! Katniss doesn't reciprocate (spelling?) the feelings for quite a few chapters still, but I thought I would make Haymitch fall in love with Katniss for a ton of angsty reasons. ****Question, also. What do you want to see after HL?**

**I could do a Hayffie fiction, with Hayniss one shots. (Like with this one, where I had the Hayffie ALS or the Reading while I waited for the time to come to post again)**

**Or**

**I could do another Hayniss fiction, with Hayffie one-shots.**

**R&R, with your thoughts! Love you lots!**


	9. Chapter Eight

**A/N: Hey! I'm back, you lovely little goslings you. Goslings is my new name for Haunted Love readers, considering Haymitch's geese. So this chapter is just something to keep you busy. Anyways, continue and enjoy.**

**Chapter Eight**

_*Previously On __**Haunted Love***_

_"You can say 'sex' Haymitch, I'm not twelve." I roll my eyes. He's treating me like some child that just doesn't understand. Well I do understand. I had been through two Hunger Games, a war and lost the love of my life and I was only twenty-two. If anything, I understood perfectly._

_"Not those types of things Katniss! You're making me fall in love with you!"_

* * *

><p>Morning after is usually pleasant with Haymitch. There usually isn't any unsaid awkwardness, loud glances or memories of touches. I'm not sure if it's because of his confession of love from the previous night, but for the first time, our morning after is awkward.<p>

I simply don't know what not or what to do around him anymore. I don't want to tease him or make him miserable - at least, not anymore - but I don't want to give him the cold shoulder or make him think I regret anything - because even though I won't admit it, I don't regret a damn thing.

So in the morning, when I wake up wearing nothing but his sweatshirt and boxers - I'm mortified until I find they're clean - I just sit there in bed, wondering what to say to him at breakfast.

"I believe a visit to District 4 is overdue," Haymitch says during an unnaturally silent breakfast. I look up from my oatmeal with a raised eyebrow. "I wasn't going to tell you, but Finley's fifth birthday is arriving and Johanna and Annie invited us. It's also a chance to meet their new daughters."

"Oh?" My eyebrows shoot to my hairline.

"I wasn't going to tell you because they invited Peeta, but since he's not going, then maybe it would do you some good to get out of this District." I notice how he doesn't say 'house', because after Greasy Sae forced us through withdrawal and before I became a relative sex addict, I had to retreat back to hunting. I would leave at the whispers of dawn and not return until the moon was high in the sky. I'm sure Haymitch doesn't want to go through hours of endless worry again, so he definitely will not suggest the woods.

"Do you want to go?" He asks. I ponder it for a few moments. The only bad memories in Four were my mother and the constant reminder of Finnick everywhere. It would be a nice change from the polluted air of District 12, and maybe seeing another woman around my age would do me some good.

"Sure, we can go. But what's in it for you, because if I can recall, you hate traveling," I ask after polishing off the rest if my oatmeal

"That's where your wrong, sweetheart," Haymitch says, taking our plates to the sink to be washed. "I hate traveling to the _Capitol. _I don't mind traveling other places. Besides, Effie will be there on a break from her family."

"Then it's settled," I shrug. "Pack your bags, old man, we're going to Four."

* * *

><p>It doesn't take long to make arrangements in Four. Annie and I had said that Johanna would come retrieve us from the aeroport and take us to our hotel. After dropping our things off, she would take us straight to Victors Village. From that point on, we did with our free time what we pleased.<p>

Haymitch and I had agreed that we would take the time to spend this trip apart - get some fresh air, get away from each other and sort out everything with ourselves before tackling the problem at hand. I am less than happy because Effie there alone and they would be spending the trip catching up with each other, but I got over it once I stepped foot out if the aeroport.

Johanna is waiting for us like planned, and looking at her now I wouldn't expect her to be a mother. Tight leather pants, a matching black jacket and a red shirt so small on her, her belly button is visible. Her hair - which has grown out a lot since we've last seen her - is pulled into a messy bun and she wears a pair of what the Capitol calls 'rebel boots'.

"Brainless, over here!" She yells at me when we exit the lobby. I smile and hurry towards her, not bothering to hug her since it hasn't been very long since we've last seen each other. Johanna grabs one of my suitcases and leads us to a beat up transport truck.

"Victors Village is all the way in the outskirts of the city, we asked for it to be built away from general population with its own private beach and such. It may sound selfish, but the loud noises trigger Annie."

"So we'll be a little ways from the shops?" I ask, handing Haymitch the rest my bags for him to load in the truck.

"Not necessarily. There are so many people living in our village, they began to complain of the long drive from here to the city. So we have our own marketplace as well. Our Mayor is an ex-Capitolite, and he wants to be liked. If we say jump he asks how high."

"Damn. We haven't heard from our new mayor since we arrived back in Twelve," I reply. "Then again, he's still got a lot of work to do." After that our conversation veers somewhere along the lines of both our Districts and how they're rebuilding. The drive to the Village is a long one, but it's worth the piece and quiet.

In the front yard, a girl around the age of seven colors in a notebook, and another girl around Finley's age toddles after the boy. "Kids, come meet Aunt and Uncle Haymitch!" Johanna calls. Finley stops running from his new sister and runs towards us, his arms open wide.

"Ay-itch! Niss!" He giggles, throwing himself into my arms. I lift Finley off the ground and embrace him tightly, "Niss!" My nephew calls again, grabbing my braid and placing it into his mouth. I quickly move my hair out of his reach.

"Hey little man, I missed you!" He smiles and allows me to hold him a bit longer before wriggling out if my grip and going to fetch his sisters. He grabs each of their hands and tugs, pulling them in our direction. It's obvious the girls are not either Annie or Johanna's, with their wavy blonde hair and nut brown eyes, but they're like Annie in their mannerisms - shy and meek.

"Kai," Finley says, pointing at the oldest girl. "Mer." This time he points to the younger girl.

"Kai and Muriel," Annie clarifies, exiting their house with a smile on her cheeks. "They're sisters. Their parents went MIA, their father was a peacekeeper and their mother was a gamemaker. They refused to be separated, so Jo and I took them both on. Aren't they the cutest?" She asks. Haymitch is quick to agree, but he fidgets next to me. Kids aren't exactly his forte, for obvious reasons, and they made him nervous. Noticing his discomfort, Johanna offers to show him where Effie is. More like demands.

It sounds juvenile, but he's more than willing to accept any opportunity to get away from children. He kisses my cheek with promises he'll see me after the trip is over before Johanna grabs his wrist and drags him away and out of the village in the direction of the beach.

"Why don't you come in, Katniss? I've got some stew on the stove, I'm sure I could use your cooking expertise."

Annie leads me inside the house and I help her look after the little ones and - after Johanna returns - spice up her stew into something that doesn't taste so bland. A part of me knows that Annie is exceptional at cooking, and that she made her food taste bad so that I would have something to do.

After dinner I help prepare the kids for bed, even reading Muriel a bedtime story at her request. We share a glass of wine - well, they do, I opt for water - and Annie and Johanna tell me about their nightly tradition of visiting Finnick's grave.

The wind howls as we walk toward the beach. At first I'm afraid I'll break my arrangement of staying away from Haymitch and run into him, but Johanna reminds that it's been hours since I've seen my mentor and that the chances of him being at the beach are slim. My reluctance fades.

The walk is silent, but comfortably so. When we stop in front of the resting spot of my companion, my emotions tumble from the locked part of my heart. There is no tombstone to mark the grave, but instead his trident. For the safety of people nearby, the pointy edges have been dulled and the weapon has been bronzed.

His grave has been placed close to the sea, with nothing but a never ending strip of sand to surround him.

Johanna sighs and explains to be that the grave is barren, due to the fact that when recovery teams went back, the only think they found was a puddle of blood. Surprisingly, Annie keeps a straight face when she says this.

I kneel and touch the trident, tears unable to hold back and running down my cheeks. "Oh Finnick... I'm so sorry."

Annie kneels next to me, kissing the trident affectionately. "I was mad at you, you know. I hated you, I wished a lot of evil things on you when I found out about his death. But Gale came to drop off Johanna and took the liberty of explaining his death. He told me about how you wanted to go back for him, and when they didn't let you, about how you gave him a mercy kill. I forgave you, Katniss."

"I don't deserve it," I say bitterly. Johanna glares at me. "But thank you, Annie."

"You didn't me finish," she says, her voice that of steel. "I forgave you for my Finnick, but I don't think I'll be able to forgive you for my Haymitch. Hurt one of my men, I'm upset. Hurt both of my men and now I'm angry."

"I'm afraid I don't follow," I say, frowning.

"Do you think all of us Victors had a rivalry? Do you think that we got on those trains every year and never spoke again? Because if you do, you're wrong. We were Victors, Katniss. We had a leniency with Snow. That's why you never saw Haymitch until reapings. Not because he never left his house, but because he was never in it. We agreed to our appointments not only to save our home families but to save our mental families as well." We all stand and move away from the grave because somehow it's wrong to hold this conversation next to Finnick. Or at least, to me.

"I still don't get it," I growl, quickly becoming frustrated. Johanna rolls her eyes, handing us each a slice of the upside down cake that Annie had baked after dinner. I didn't even know she bought it along.

"You're a few dimes short of a dollar, brainless. I'll be lewd about it, if it helps you understand. Annie, Finn, Chaff, Seeder, Haymitch, me... hell, even Trinket. We loved each other fiercely." I laugh at her crude words, and when I realize that she's serious, I gape.

"You can't be serious... you all... you couldn't have... I'm shocked."

"We had a pact to protect each other. Why do you think Haymitch is with Effie now instead of with us? She needs protecting. This is our way of protecting him."

"I'm sorry," I sigh, looking at the cake that has become sticky in my fingers. "I love Peeta... I can't love Haymitch." Annie snorts.

"Of course you can't! But you can be in love with him."

"What?"

"Look, Katniss. Loving is easy. Love is reserved for friends, family, etcetera. It's easy to love. Being in love is much, much harder. It's so difficult, it hurts. Did it hurt to love Peeta? After everything, when you were allowed to live, did it hurt?"

"It was easy after everything was said and done. We mended and we didn't hurt, not anymore."

"Exactly. You can be in love with Haymitch, because you can hurt. I think you're in love with him right now, you just don't know it. He's certainly in love with you, because he's hurting right now," she explains. I shake my head.

"I'm not in love with a man twice my age!"

"I said the same thing," Johanna says, shrugging. "And I fell in love with Blight."

"That's... different..." I murmur. They both roll their eyes.

"Fine, we'll drop it. But you should be careful, little Miss Abernathy. Despite his flaws, there are women in the Capitol and in the Districts that would kill to be his. Now that he's sober, once he gets in front of a camera, women will be pawing at him and falling at his feet. And if you keep this act up, he won't be ashamed to fall into the arms and bed of another to get the comfort you deny him."

"I sleep with him!" I snap, even though they're bluffing. They have to be, Haymitch told me himself that his whoreish days were over.

"He doesn't need sex, Katniss!" Johanna snaps. "After the hell we've been through, we all need love, you of all people should know that! He doesn't want your body, he wants your heart!"

"I can't give him something I don't have. Peeta has my heart."

"No he doesn't," Annie says quietly.

"How do you know?" I fire back.

"Because if he had your heart, you would feel ashamed and guilty to admit you slept with Haymitch." I am silent as I process her words, but once they settle, I gasp. She was right. I had slept with Haymitch without a second thought and had been proud when I sent him to town with hickeys and bruises. Hell, we had sex in the woods twice with the chances of somebody coming upon us. I had never felt an inkling of shame, and I still don't. But that doesn't change anything, and I voice this. Johanna throws her hands up.

"Whatever, Katniss. You're dragging him down by not realizing it. We should get back anyway, Finn will be waking for his nightly milk soon," she says. We stand, making the trip back to the village. The conversation falls on something about the law and I tune out.

The entire walk back, I enforce my thoughts. I am not in love with Haymitch Abernathy.


	10. Chapter Nine

**A/N: Eller! I just wanted to say thank you again to everyone who sticks around to see what's next. You're support of this story keep it alive, you know! I hope to take this story far. I'm thinking of taking it to about 15-20 chapters. It depends on my writing. Hope you enjoy this. Also, I suggest you listen to the song Scream My Name by Tove Lo while o reading this. I listened to it while writing it. I don't know why, I just felt like it fit for some reason.**

**Chapter Nine **

**Fucking up my happy ending, but I will take bullets to the heart.**

**- Tove Lo, Scream My Name**

The following morning, I decide to take a walk to the beach myself. Johanna and Annie offer to tag along, but I decide this is a trip I need to take alone. The walk to the beach is a pleasant one and I take the scenic route, watching as seagulls dip low into the water and the waves crash against the shore. Victors and their families all stop me on the way, smiles on their faces. Some congratulate me on my engagement - which I correct to marriage - and others thank me. Some have heart felt stories about how I helped them during the war. I speak with each briefly before one of us decide to continue on our own way. It's nice to be smiled at for an entirely different reason than because I'm famous.

When I arrive at the beach, I spot two silhouettes on the beach and run towards them, expecting them to be Effie and Haymitch, or maybe even my mother.

I stop short, however, when I find that it is not neither Effie nor my mother Haymitch is sitting with, but Peeta. I quickly duck behind a rock before they see me. So Haymitch lied, and Peeta is in Four. I wonder when he was going to tell me, that bastard. I try and steady my breathing so I can hear them. Although their voices are faint, they are carried by the wind and from my position, I can see and hear them perfectly.

"... disgusting, Haymitch," Peeta scoffs, his hair whipping in the ocean breeze. I notice it's gotten longer in the small amount of time it's been since I've been with him. When he turns to look at Haymitch, I can see his eyes are dark with envy. Shifting my position a bit, I can see they're both smoking cigarettes. Since when does Haymitch or Peeta smoke?

"Your girlfriend has been forcing herself into me these past few weeks and I'm disgusting?" I can picture Haymitch rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"It's not rape if you're having fun," they lapse into a silence before, "So you love her, now?"

"I've always loved her, boy. But now I'm in love with her. I guess you were right when you said she has no idea the effect she could have. I hadn't felt anything in sex for years and suddenly there's fireworks under my fingertips when I'm with her. And you don't even know how good you have it... I really love her, I'm ready to pour my heart out to her, something that takes a lot out of me, mind you and she's still hung up on you."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Peeta asks roughly. Haymitch sighs, like the solution is the most obvious thing in the world.

"Nothing you can do. You both still love each other, I'm not going to force you to destroy that. Think of it as the mentors final stand to take one for the team," Haymitch shrugs. My heart shatters for the fifth time since Haymitch confessed his love for me. "Again," he adds bitterly.

"That last time was different. We had no control over that one, but we have control over this one. I could... I could lie, tell her I don't want her or know her. I could make it easier for you," Peeta offers. Haymitch puts his smoke out in the moist sand and flicks it.

"That would be the final straw, it'd break you beyond repair. No, Peeta, I'll live out my days as an emotionally lonely old man. Now, if you'll excuse me. Effie and I set up a date to go to the cinema, and I'm not sitting through a lecture of tardiness." Haymitch pushes off the sand, dusting his bottoms off. He gives Peeta a curt nod before trudging through the sand back to the direction of the city without looking back.

I wait until his figure is completely gone before steeling myself. Gathering my courage, I run out onto the beach where Peeta remains seated, his hands fisting the sand. I plop next to him, but he doesn't move.

"I'm sorry, Briar-"

"Peeta," I say, placing my hand over his. He looks up and startles when he sees me. At first his eyes fill with confusion and fear, and he rubs at his them. When he realizes I'm not a hallucination, he snorts.

"Your timing is impeccable, you know that?" He sighs, putting out his own cigarette. He pats the spot next to him and I sit, folding my legs underneath me. It feels weird to be with Peeta in an unaffectionate way, and sitting next to him causes too many strained memories of sweet kisses and gentle touches.

"So I've been told," I murmur, shaking my head to clear my mind. "I heard what he said, about taking one for the team. You can't possibly be willing to let him suffer."

"Hello, Peeta. How are you? Do you want to talk about what happened? How's your wife? I'm sorry about how I acted. Never one to beat around the bush," Peeta sighs, shaking his head. "It's not my decision to 'make him suffer', Katniss. Whether we like it or not, we have to move on. The only one still holding onto me and forcing him to endure a loveless relationship is you. He told me everything - about how when you found out that we could have never worked, you completely shut down. You're still holding onto something that can't exist. You're the one hurting him, not me. I'm not saying he didn't have his own hand in his destruction, I'm just saying you're adding fuel to the flames.*

"So what do I do?" I wonder out loud. Peeta shrugs, something akin to annoyance and frustration washing over his face. He's sick of dealing with this, sick of going through these motions of fighting me and loving me and fighting me again. My Peeta is sick.

"Simple. Stop grasping at the threads of our past."

"It's not that easy to just fall out of love with somebody," I point out. Annie's words come back from the previous night, and my words bounce around in my head. Was I in love with Peeta or did I love him? What really was the difference?

"I'm not saying fall out of love with me. I'm saying try to fall in love with Haymitch. Look, Katniss, I still do love you, don't get me wrong. I'm wild for you. But I made that decision in the kitchen the night of your interview that we couldn't go on hurting those around us for our selfish desires. Not to mention that even if I wanted to, Snow took a part of my mind that I could never get back and I wouldn't be able to be the steady husband you need. What you need is a constant, something that's always there for you. Haymitch, if my hazy memory serves me right, has always been there for us. I'm not saying you have to fall in love with him immediately, I'm not saying that suddenly you have to stop loving me, I'm just saying that we both really owe him something and you have gotten quite good at faking things until they're real."

I don't humor that with an response - mostly because I know he's right - so I look for another choice of conversation. My eyes fall on his cigarette butt, and I pucker my lips at the offensive smell of his newfound habit.

"I didn't know you smoked," I say slowly. Peeta looks at me like I've lost my mind before he shrugs, his eyes glancing to my point of interest. His lips curl down, and his brow creases.

"Socially. My wife smokes, though. She's a lot like you with a mix of Finnick, you know."

"Oh?"

"Oh yeah," Peeta says, leaning back on his hands, looking out into the never ending sea.

"Yeah. I'll take the two main attributes I associate her with. She's as stubborn as a mule and the biggest flirt in our District. A part of me wishes I would have gotten to Effie in time."

"Why do you say that?" In my opinion, Effie is loud, overdressed, obnoxious and annoying. I never saw what Haymitch saw in her. I could imagine being married to her is hell. Not to mention the idea of Effie taking away the one thing I hold close to me boils my blood.

"Well, there are so many benefits. Once you and Haymitch had your kids, Effie and I could divorce, you and Haymitch could have divorced, and we would have had who we wanted and never had to deal with falling in and out if love. You and I could have raised the kids you had with Haymitch and they could raise the kids I adopted with Effie. Everything would have turned out fine."

"Or we could have been polyamorous," I shrug, catching onto his train of thought. Peeta nods.

"Yeah, or that." An uncomfortable silence blankets us and I turn to Peeta. Watching him look so peacefully just does things to me. Nothing sexual, it just makes my heart warm and swell.

"You think we could have had our happy ending?" He meets my eyes, and when I look into his not a bit of them are insincere.

"Honestly? No. I think my fucked up head would have ruined everything, constantly. I think I would have traumatized our children and went off the hinges. I think that at some point, you would have committed me and found your happiness in someone else's arms anyway. This law saved us from all that grief, I think."

I roll my eyes and punch him playfully. "Leave the pessimism to me. Seriously, Peeta. I think we would have had our happy ending eventually."

"Sure, Katniss. Eventually." Another lapse of silence. It had never been this hard to talk to Peeta before. Maybe it's because most of our conversations consisted of our relationship and how we could benefit to each other and grow from our mistakes. Most of our conversations were about healing as a couple. We don't have that common ground anymore.

"What do you suppose I do about him?" I ask, examining a small seashell. The night in the arena when Peeta gave me that pearl flashes in front of me and I vaguely wonder what happened to it. I think it's at his house, in our old room.

"Well, he said he was going to the movies in the city. You could go to him," he suggests. "Tell him whatever you want, but don't break the man Katniss. I've never particularly liked Haymitch much, to be completely honest, but even I know the last thing he deserves is another heartbreak."

I nod and stand, lingering a moment before I bend down to kiss his cheek. "I'll visit sometime, I promise. Maybe you can introduce me to your wife properly."

"That sounds like it would be... interesting," he nods. "I'd like that." We both hesitate again, and I know we want to kiss. But we don't. I pat his shoulder and make the trek towards the Village, hoping to borrow Johanna's car and go into the city.

* * *

><p>Johanna seems a little too excited to drop me off at the cinema, and I barely say thank you before rushing towards the doors. Luckily, Effie's bright pink hair isn't hard to spot.<p>

They're sitting on a love seat, Effie with her heels folded under her and Haymitch with his feet propped on the table. By the look on his face, he doesn't like whatever she is saying. I know this would be twice that I'm eavesdropping today, but I have to hear what they're talking about. Unfortunately the only way to hide is to sit directly behind their seat.

It's not getting there that's the problem, they're too immersed in their conversation to notice me. Three problem is not being noticed or pointed out by anyone. I suppose I'll have up pray that people don't notice their ' Mockingjay' hiding behind a couch and listening in on her forced husband's conversation with his ex-girlfriend.

I exit and enter through the entrance on the other side of the theater, which puts me out of their direct view. From there, it just takes a little tiptoeing to find a seat behind them.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Haymitch is the bad guy. Look I came here to catch up with an old friend and not talk about my love interest. You're destroying that initiative, princess."

"To Katniss, she's the bad guy. Look, everyone is doing all they can to guilt trip Katniss into returning your affections, but maybe she isn't the problem. Maybe, it's the stubborn old man that refuses to take advice."

"I give advice. I don't take it."

"That's the mindset that has you here and not cuddling up to the one person you need," Effie sing-songs. I can actually hear Haymitch glaring at her, mostly because he does this strange growling noise when he glares at anyone.

"So what should I do, miss smartass?"

"Easy. Sit Katniss down, tell her how you really feel, get it all out in the open, and wait for her to come to you."

"Oh that's rich. '_Hey, Katniss, I know your boyfriend kind of just married another woman and you're being forced into this with a filthy drunk, but I just wanted you to know that I'm madly in love with you and I would walk to the ends of Panem if you asked me to. Oh, PS, I'm going to let you scamper off before you tell me that you really don't like me and wish me dead because I basically ruined your romance. Okay, love you, see you around, bye_.'" Haymitch scoffs, and I bite my lip to hold back a laugh. When he puts it that way, it is a bit funny.

"You are such an ass," Effie laughs. "Like this. 'Katniss, I want to marry you and take you off to live in the woods, where you'll never spend a single day in your life where you're not pregnant. We'll have tones of little babies and they'll be the most precious things, and their Aunt Effie will pamper them-"

"Hey, slow down there, Aunt Effie," Haymitch says. I shift a little, pressing into the back of the couch to remain inconspicuous. This is really how they played around? I always thought it'd be more serious. Childish, I know but I didn't think Effie and Haymitch could have a conversation that didn't start or end in a fight. "Gotta get the girl before I can go around popping out little bastards with her."

"You'll get the girl quicker if you just tell her how you feel, you simple minded imbecile."

"Yeah, and when did you become so smart, huh princess?"

"When you became stupid. Haymitch. You're going about this all wrong! What you want is for you to confess her love and for her to say 'oh Haymitch, I thought you'd never come clean, let's go skin a deer and make out'. And it's just not going to work that way. Women want to be-"

"It's four thirty. Let's go into the movie before your babbling makes me miss it," Haymitch interrupts. Before Effie can reply, he stands and begins to saunter over to the ticket master. Effie rolls her eyes before following him.

"You're running away from your fears!" She calls, her heels fading as she chases after him. I wait for them to disappear into the movie before I laugh and shake my head. I probably look insane, but I don't care. I must be pretty damned special if Haymitch is going to brave talking to the woman he used to love to get advice on how to win my heart.

I know what I have to do, but it doesn't look like such a bleak act anymore.


	11. Chapter Ten

**A/N: My last chapter was rushed because I was on a time cap, but here's a more carefully thought out Chapter Ten.**

**Chapter Ten**

**The more you get to know someone, the more attracted you are to them. This is because everything you see on the inside of them, you see on the outside of them as well.**

"Katniss? What are you doing here?" His voice is rough and hoarse, but not how it is after a long night of drinking, screaming or crying. It's different. Lighter, somehow. I chance a brief glance at him and have to rush to cover my shock. He looks clean and from the moistness on his shoulders and through the stark white shirt he's wearing, he only took a shower recently.

And he smells... it's a nice scent of expensive cologne and the ocean, but I don't particularly like this new part if him. It's not... Haymitch. The familiarity of everything is just gone, and it doesn't help soothe my nerves.

I shift my weight from foot to foot, avoiding his gaze. I know if I do look up, he'll manage to somehow make me regret coming here even more than I do now. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting anything but... can we talk?" There is a small pause before I hear the door closing behind him.

"What's up, Katniss? I thought we agreed to gather ourselves during this vacation. Alone," Haymitch emphasizes jokingly, before tapping the bottom of my chin. "Look at me, sweetheart. I'm not talking to your forehead."

"Right, sorry," I look up and a pair of amused gray eyes assault me. Haymitch looks condescending, even though I know he's not trying to. It really knocks my confidence down a few notches. "I'm sorry. I should go." I turn to leave, my brow furrowed. Why did I even come here? It was stupid... this is stupid. I'm a grown woman and I still can't handle just talking to the man that I have to be married to for the next ten years of my life. This is pathetic.

I'm prepared to run when his callused hand grabs my upper arm, squeezing gently. I turn to look at him and the amusement is gone. Instead there is worry and authority. His 'I am your mentor look at me' expression is on, the one that really makes me listen to him. "You came here princess, you talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Haymitch, I've been thinking. I've been doing a lot of thinking," I say, running a hand through my hair. Nerves knot in my stomach and I look around nervously. I really don't want anyone to be listening in on this - even though I've been eavesdropping all week it seems. "Do you want to take a walk?"

"There is no one here, if that's what you're worried about sweetheart. Come in," Haymitch turns and opens the hotel door, and I follow him in. The room is relatively clean, there are only a few haphazardly thrown clothes lying a bout. And it doesn't stink of alcohol. He's really trying to clean up his act. "Okay, out with it."

I turn to look at him, and take a deep breath. "Yes."

"What?"

"Yes. I mean... yes. I will try. I'm willing to try. I've had a lot of coaching recently-"

"Yeah, I suspected that," Haymitch rubs the back of his neck, looking around uneasily. "Look, Katniss. I don't want you to love me because a few people take pity on me. I don't want you to do something you don't want to do. You be you, and if that means you are incapable of loving anyone else besides lover boy then so be it. We'll have these fuckin' kids because officials have been on my jock about it but after that... I don't know. I'm not going to trap you into anything."

"Haymitch-"

"And it's going to hurt like hell to be so madly in love with you, but I'm a big boy and-" I groan in annoyance, crossing my arms. He complained about Effie, but he sure could babble.

"Haymitch-"

"-I can handle this. I'm not sure-"

"Shut up for a minute!" I shout, stomping my foot like a small child. Haymitch cuts off from his sentence, looking at me in confusion. "You never let me finish. I was trying to say that even though I've had a little pushing, I think I'd come to this conclusion either way. Look, Haymitch, I don't even know you that well. Sure, I've known you for years but I know nothing about you. I know Peeta. I put so much time and dedication into knowing him and loving him that it came naturally."

"So if given the chance, I think it'd come to me eventually. It's easy to fall in love, after all." Quiet blankets the room, and for a moment I think he'll take back everything he's ever said. I'm moving towards the door when he grabs my wrist and tugs, sending me into his arms.

Haymitch's hands grip my waist as he kisses me, and I know it's different. It will be different. This time our kisses don't taste like salty tears and gin. This time, it tastes of everything we've ever lost and everything we have to look forward to.

Neither of us say it, we don't need to. We feel it. What's the point, when I already know?

No, neither of us say anything. Our kisses say it for us.

"Take it off," I hear him growl when we break away. "All of it, take it off. I'm doing this right for once. Now take it off," he hisses, fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. I help him out - his hands are shaking badly but it's not from withdrawal - and he can't get them undone. Quickly, I slip out of the shirt, my hands working on my jeans as his mouth ravishes mine.

Haymitch hoists me up, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist and finish shrugging out of my jeans. Carefully, he begins to walk backward until his knees hit the bed and we fall onto the sheets.

Haymitch's mouth leaves mine and he suckles on my neck, but his hands trace the hem of my underwear. "God, you're beautiful." His hands push the offending fabric down and caress my inner thigh. He doesn't quite touch my sex, but the trails of implications he leaves has me shivering anyways. Such a tease.

My lovers hand ghosts over my entrance before he plunges two fingers into me. I arch my back, thrusting my hips into his hand in a plead for more friction. Haymitch draws out his fingers completely before sliding back in, causing his name to fall involuntarily from my lips.

I whimper as he pumps his fingers, rocking against his hand to meet a rhythm. I'm getting close, and he knows because he uses his other hand to tilt my face towards his. I fall against his chest, my lips pressing against his hungrily. Haymitch's tongue runs along my bottom lip and when I part them, he explores every cavern and nook of my mouth. My fingers tangle in his dark curls as he swallows my moans and cries.

"Come for me," Haymitch whispers against my lips when I pull away. I press my forehead against his chest, wrenching my eyes shut. "Oh no, sweetheart. Look at me while you do it." I obey, looking up into his eyes. No sound escapes his lips, but they form the three words I need to hear to toss my over the edge.

That flying feeling wraps around my being and a sound escapes my throat, escalating into a choked scream. Haymitch's hand pauses, allowing me to ride out my orgasm myself. A sharp ringing in my ears is the only thing I hear as I completely unravel. It feels like I'm floating again and I fight the convulsions that rack my body.

When it feels as if I'm back on earth, I dig my nails into his chest. "Now together," I whisper. Haymitch doesn't need to be told twice as his shirt, pants and underwear join mine on the floor.

My hand wraps around his stiff and twitching member, my hand not quite able to close completely around him. The motions of his pleasure coming naturally to me, my fingertips playing against his tip in teasing. Eventually, I begin to stroke him, watching in awe and delight as his face contorts into bliss and he relinquishes control to me.

Without stopping, I position myself between his legs, my eyes never leaving his face. I continue to stroke him with my hand for a bit, and just when his expression relaxes, I dance my tongue around his tip.

"Katniss," Haymitch growls. I notice his hand twitch, he so desperately wants to be back in control. Smirking to myself, I run my tongue up his shaft. "Katniss, please." There is strain in his voice and I know he's trying to hold back, for me.

My tongue swirls around his member a few times before I take him into my mouth. I hollow out my cheeks to take all of him, and I can feel my husband fist my hair. Haymitch's hips thrust forward, shoving more of his shaft down my throat.

I slide my mouth up and down, reveling in the growls of pleasure and ecstasy that come from Haymitch's throat. As my mouth stretches to accommodate his thickness, my speed picks up and the urgency washes over me.

"Katniss, stop," Haymitch murmurs above me, shattering my concentration. "Sweetheart, I'm one and done, you know this." There is desperation in his voice so I do stop, removing my mouth from his length with a satisfied pop.

Haymitch and I stare at each other for a moment, taking each other in. Just when I'm about to say something sarcastic, he rolls and flips until somehow I'm trapped underneath him. His hand grips the headboard as his other positions his length outside my entrance.

"Sweetheart," Haymitch whispers. "Tell me when." I don't need to say anything, I just bring his mouth to mine. Haymitch takes advantage of the distraction and pushes into me, sighing into my lips when he does. A shiver runs up my spine at the initial contact, and I realize just how much I missed this.

"You're so tight," Haymitch murmurs into my ear as he slowly draws out and plunges back. I spread my legs a little more, allowing him better access. We both wait until he's buried to the hilt to do anything else, Haymitch giving me time to adjust again. He doesn't give me as long as usual though, because when he pulls out again, his next thrust is harsh.

I arch my chest up, gasping as Haymitch roughly pounds into my heat. My yells mixed with his grunts and groans of pleasure and the sounds of the headboard smacking against the wall echo through the room, most likely waking the entire hotel. A moments embarrassment lunges at me but it's gone as soon as it's there.

Anticipation wells in my stomach and my hands grip at the sheets. I am quickly coming to the edge again, and by the sloppiness and exasperation of Haymitch's thrusts, he is too. I lock my legs around his lower back and push down, bringing him closer to me so that our chests are pressed against each other.

Haymitch's free hand untangles mine from the sheets and intertwines our fingers before bringing them to pin above my head. His mouth drops onto mine and I relish in the feeling of him, of being here with him.

"Together," I remind him when I notice he's slowing down. Haymitch nods, burying his face into the crook of my neck as his edge comes closer. With a few more pumps I'm running my nails along his back and he's biting down on my neck in another form of release. My walls tighten as his member swells and he pumps me full of his warmth. Each of us give a final cry of the others name before he slumps against me.

We lay there for awhile, both slick with sweat and panting heavily. I feel his smile slowly form and then broaden on my neck and swat at his back.

"What are you so smug about?"

"Can't a man have good sex and be happy about it?" He asks. Haymitch peels back the covers, allowing me to slide under before following me. His arms wrap around my lower back and I sling my leg over his before draping my arm over his waist and resting my head on his chest.

"Haymitch Abernathy? Happy? Well, I'll be damned. Never thought I'd see the day." His laughter rumbles low in his chest as he presses a kiss to my forehead. I fight the exhaustion that's beginning to attack me, since I need to at least call Annie and Johanna to tell them where I disappeared to. I really wish sex wasn't such a tiring act.

"Haymitch?" I ask through the haze of my exhaustion.

"Yeah sweetheart?"

"I'm going to try, okay?"

"I love you too, sweetheart."

**Two, three more chapters, maybe? I don't know. The end isn't far now that I've gotten this established. I hope you enjoyed this, because I have been struggling with establishing the Hayniss base.**


	12. Chapter Eleven

**AN: Again, I love you all! I don't know how this story got so wildly liked, but everyday I'm grateful. Err, shameful promotion here, but if you want to check out some OC's of mine, you can see Marshall Negill in Winter Wonderland: 23rd Hunger Games, Constantine in Close Your Eyes: 22nd Hunger Games, Sans Klein in Fallen Leaves: 15th Hunger Games and Thicket Moors in the same as Sans.**

**And I apologize if everyone is OOC.**

**After this, one more chapter!**

**Chapter Eleven**

**Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting them not to do so.**

**-Unknown**

_***One Year and Six Months Later**__*_

"Yes, Annie, a wedding sounds nice but we're already married," I sigh. I've been talking with Annie over this subject for about an hour now, and Haymitch is not helping with the kisses he's pressing to my shoulder and trailing down my spine. Every time he hits a sensitive spot on my neck I sigh in pleasure and Annie goes into another rant about how she knows I'll come around.

"Consider it, Katniss. It's summer! You know what summer brings? Outdoor weddings! It'll be beautiful, Effie and I'll plan it!"

"Yes, I understand. But we've had our toasting," I explain, slapping away a wandering hand. Haymitch groans in annoyance, his attempts to get me under him failing yet again. "Another wedding seems excessive and attention seeking."

"Oh, but I want to plan a wedding so desperately. I planned Peeta and Briar's and it was so fun! Please! Oh, please?" I sigh, my hand fluttering unconsciously to my swollen stomach. Six months into my pregnancy, and I had already grown attached to my child. It was scary at first, the idea of having a baby. Haymitch and I fought for weeks - I wanted an illegal abortion, he wanted the officials off our backs - before he asked if I really wanted the death of another child, our child no less, on my hands. I kicked him out, it was the longest we'd ever fought.

But then he came back for his things and I couldn't stay away. Afterwards, the thought of having a baby wasn't so poisonous. I'd even thought of names - much to my chagrin, considering I'd been forced into that part.

"I don't know... Oh fine," I hold the phone away from her loud squealing as I relent to her wishes. What with Finley and Muriel starting school and Kai mostly sticking to her own devices, I could understand how Annie would be getting bored. Haymitch raises an eyebrow and I shoot him an apologetic look. "But keep the guest list at a minimal... decorations too. I'm serious, don't over do it, Annie."

"Yeah, yeah. I have to go now, Katniss..." I sigh in annoyance at my friend. "I'll call you when I've decided on a dress color. I think the green of the woodlands is a nice color for a bridesmaid dress." Annie keeps rambling so, giving up, I hang up. As rude as it is, I would never never gotten off the phone with her, Annie being the talker she is. Besides, she'll call back eventually.

"What did you go and do now, sweetheart?" My husband asks, rolling over onto his back. I roll my eyes, sitting up in bed with a bit of difficulty. Looking down on him, a smile curls onto my lips. He was always so peaceful in the mornings, and it is sort of cute. His eyes snap open when I don't answer and his own smirk graces his lips.

"Having fun?" My eyes slide from his chest - not chiseled, but still fit - to his lips and finally to his eyes. "Sweetheart, it's rude to stare."

"Not if I'm staring at a piece of art," I mumble, reaching forward to touch his stubble-littered cheek. "You're so... you're so beautiful."

"Oh darling, that's just your hormones overreacting to that little jelly-bean in your stomach. Please, I'm far from beautiful." Haymitch's eyes find themselves on everything but me, and I move forward until our faces are inches apart. Up close I can see a small bump on his cheek from where he cut himself shaving and the faint bruises along his jawline from our endeavors the previous night.

"You are beautiful, Haymitch. You are so beautiful, and don't you ever doubt it again," I whisper, leaning down to kiss him on his cheek. Haymitch smiles at me, brushing my hair from my face.

"Thank you sweetheart, but when I say I'm not pretty I don't mean my exterior."

"I didn't either," I snap. Of course, there is the trademark rolling of his eyes. We did that a lot, I wouldn't be surprised if our eyes got stuck looking into the back of our heads.

"Come on, sweetheart. You're being hormonal. Don't you have yet another wedding to plan?"

"We never had one in the first place. We technically had a toasting while drunk. Doesn't really count."

"Counted to me," he grumbles, and I can tell he's being reluctant about throwing a fuss over the new wedding.

"Don't do that," I say, sitting up and crossing my arms over my stomach. "I have one child not two."

"Technically you don't even have one yet," he chuckles. "The baby isn't even formed... or whatever." I smile at him knowingly. Haymitch tried to come off as if a child wouldn't change everything we had ever said about ourselves, but I couldn't help but catch him more often than not up reading How To guides that Johanna had initially sent to piss him off.

"Whatever. Are we going to stay in bed all day or do something productive? Something that would put some rabbit in Sae's stew," I suggest, even though I know meat isn't his his taste.

"Like go hunting? Like hell you are. Katniss, you know better?"

"Uh oh, here comes Mister Haymitch," I tease. Sitting up, Haymitch looks at me with an authoritive glare. "Looks like he's mad, duck for cover!" He tackles me - although extremely gently, putting none of his own weight on me - and pins me to the bed, his arms holding me in place.

"You. Aren't. Going. Hunting." Each word is followed by a gentle peck until I'm sick of his teasing and pull him down to me, bliss seeping into my every being as our lips crash together. I'm relishing it when a random thought invades my mind, breaking the moment. I pull away from him, fighting the smile that graces my lips.

"Oh, that reminds me. I figured out a name," I tell him, trying not to burst in excitement. Usually I wouldn't be so thrilled about something such as this, but it is after all our child and the name they'll carry for life. It's something to get hyped about.

"Oh? What would that be?" Haymitch asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm going to surprise you," I smirk. Haymitch glares at me in annoyance.

"How are you going to announce something but refuse to tell me? That's not playing fair, sweetheart." I shrug and push him off of me before swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I don't stand yet though, it's too much of a difficulty as my stomach becomes larger and I usually have to brace myself before hand.

"Easy," I reply, looking at him over my shoulder. "I'm not going to tell you and there's nothing to do about it because you love me and I'm carrying your child." Haymitch glares at me, but eventually falls back into the pillows, knowing that of this I would win.

He isn't always so merciful, no. I think the main reason we're so wild for each other is because we're too much alike. Neither of us are ever ready to just back down and let the other take the reigns, and easily as we deal the blows, we take them. It's sweet, in its own twisted way, how we are able to meet each other stride for stride, always have some petty argument going on, and still fall into bed at night and whisper sweet nothings and laugh and talk as if we weren't angry only hours before.

It's something I could have never had with Peeta, though sometimes I hate myself for comparing.

"Hey, love," Haymitch asks, just as I've finally pushed off the bed and begun the waddle towards the bathroom. "what do you think about getting that nursery painted today?"

I whip around as fast as my feet would allow. Haymitch and I had been having fight after fight about painting the nursery. Everything else in there was set up, but for some reason he didn't want to paint over that peeling and fading blue wallpaper that was already plastered in there. We'd been fighting over it ever since the end of my first trimester.

"Why?" I ask cautiously. "I mean... why now?"

"It's my way of letting go," Haymitch sighs, running a hand through the long dark curls that he refused to trim. "That used to be my brother's room... or, at least, it would have been. I had ordered it wallpapered while still in the Capitol without knowing what happened. It's my one way of holding onto that childish ignorance I had that they would be waiting when I returned. It's a bit of a good memory, poisoned with knowing. But, I have to move on. I have a wife... I'm gonna have a baby... let's paint the damn nursery."

"Oh... Haymitch," I smile. This moment, all of the previous moments, where he opened up just a little to reveal the broken yet healing man inside... I treasured them. Remembered them. Held them so closely to my heart that it hurt, because those moments were important. They're what separated my husband from my mentor. I loved these moments. "We don't have to."

He snorts, that piece of him closing back up. "I know we don't have to, love. I want to. Let's do it, before my resolve softens."

"Alright then. Let me shower, and we'll go buy paint. What colors should we use?" I ask. Haymitch shrugs.

"I've always liked the color purple."

"Purple is your favorite color?" I ask, moving back towards the bathroom. I hear the springs of our bed creak as Haymitch gets up from the bed.

"Yeah, sort of. I used to really like black, but then the District 12 stylist always exploited the kids in that itchy coal dust, and my favor for the color waned. Purple is a stretchable color. It could be deep and dark and terrifying," his voice is in the doorway now, almost nothing but a rumble. "but it could also be soft, and light and gentle."

"Like you," I note, turning on the water. I turn to see Haymitch nodding thoughtfully.

"Like me," he admits. We stand in silence for a moment until Haymitch clears his throat.

"I'll go use the guest bath, so we can both be ready without doing all the waiting."

"My body not something you want to look at anymore?" I ask in humor. I don't have to worry about that self consciousness that Haymitch would stop loving me or begin finding me unworthy. If I ever bring it up, we both know I'm joking. He scoffs from behind me anyway.

"No, sweetheart. I don't think I'd be able to control myself if we showered together, and I don't want to hurt the kid," he murmurs, before dropping a kiss to the back of my neck. I laugh, turning to catch him by the waistband of his pajamas. He arms find their way around my waist and pull me as close as my stomach would allow. Haymitch kisses my forehead and smirks at me. "You'll never be unattractive to me. And you're more beautiful than ever now that you're carrying my child."

"I know," I whisper, before kissing him. Our kisses are soft, given our usually rough exterior, and they're coated in love so sappy and unreal that sometimes I think I'm hallucinating it. "Mine," I say, because those thoughts invade my mind and sometimes poison it.

"Yours," Haymitch agrees. "Mine."

"Yours."

**Just pure fluff. I think you guys deserved this one. It's actually so sweet it hurts, but I think this story has had enough angst.**


	13. Epilogue

**AN: Here is the final chapter, or rather, the epilogue, to Haunted Love. It's been such a wild ride and I'm so sad to see it go. I don't think I'll be starting any more multi-chapter fics soon, so Haunted Love is it for awhile. Thank you so much for everyone who favorited, followed, reviewed and critiqued HL, because without you it wouldn't be where it is today. I love each and every one of you guys so much you have no idea. I'm not good with words and speeches, so I'll leave it at that before I start repeating myself. Enjoy the final chapter!**

**Epilogue**

**Sometimes the things you are most afraid of, are the things that make you happiest**

**-Unknown**

_***Eight Years Later***_

"When can we take her back?" The small, annoyed voice of my oldest daughter asks, surprising me because I thought she was downstairs. I turn to look at her, at the eyebrow pulled into a frown and the small scowl on her lips. "I already have a sister. I don't want another," she pouts. Beside me, Haymitch laughs, and kneels to her eye level.

"We can't take her back, nugget," he admits, and I set Lilith down in her crib to turn and look at the two of them. It'll always be a bit weird to see him with one of the kids, but not a bad weird. A good weird, perhaps.

"Why?" Aislin asks, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes - her father's bullet blue shade, the one that's not quite Seam or merchie - narrowed into annoyed slits. Haymitch looks up at me, his eyebrows raised as if to ask _'you want to handle this one?'_. I shake my head and turn back to the newest addition to our family, smoothing back her tufts of blonde hair - a recessive trait in both Haymitch and I, no doubt - and pulling the small blanket up to her chest. Giving the 'older sibling talk' would open up too many wounds, no matter how long it had been since I'd lost Prim. It would hurt too much hearing the same words my mother and father told me when Prim was nothing but an infant. And I know Haymitch must feel the same way, so I can at least say I'm a bit guilty about forcing that on him.

"Look, kiddo, it's hard to explain," Haymitch starts, and I can hear the own struggle in his voice. "but mommy and daddy both really love all of our children, and we don't want to take any of you back. So you're a big sister, and that's a big responsibility. You have to teach them everything you know, you have to protect them. You'll see when you're older - being the older sister is the most important thing to ever happen to you, and mommy and daddy trust you to take on that task."

Aislin looks up to me, her eyes gone from those narrowed slits to wide expectancy. "Is that true, mommy?" She asks softly. I nod my head.

"It's very true, honey. You have to look after Paris and Lilith both, because you're the big girl. Can you do that for us?" Aislin looks to her father again, then back to me, before inching towards the small crib in which she used to lay. She peers down at Lilith, and her frown lifts. Aislin's mouth curls into a smile and she reaches a hand in to rub her sister's stomach. That look of condescending evaporates and loving replaces it. I can't help but smile a little at how quickly she's made up her mind.

"Okay," she whispers. "I'll be a good big sister. Paris and Lily will be the awesomest little sisters ever." Haymitch and I both exchange amused looks, before Haymitch ruffles Aislin's hair.

"Did you feed the cat today?" he asks. Aislin gasps in horror and her tiny feet pound down the stairs as she bolts out of the nursery and rushes to go feed Buttercup the Third, a small tabby cat that resembled the old beast in a scary amount of detail.

Once Aislin is out of earshot, I feel Haymitch's arms around my waist and his chin on my shoulder. "I handled that well, if I do say so myself," he says, and I can hear his voice filled with pride.

"For an old man, yeah," I tease. I can almost hear him rolling his eyes.

"Hey, watch the snark, Mrs _Abernathy_, I'm _your_ old man," he fake-scolds, before kissing my neck. Now it's my turn to roll my eyes.

"You just love saying that, don't you?" I ask, pulling Lilith's blanket over her.

"Yeah, yeah I do." I turn in his arms so I can kiss him properly, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer to me. His hands grip my waist like they're a lifeline and I can't help but think that this is too good to be true.

A small scream snaps me out of and away from Haymitch's arms and we both make a run for the stairs. I take them two by two, quickly, and round the corner once I hit the landing. I expect to find something gruesome, like one of my daughters faces contorted into pain as a tribute mercilessly harms them in some way.

But instead I find Aislin, covered in apple juice it seems and sputtering like a fish out of water, and little Paris hiccuping in laughter. Aislin glares at her, but to her credit says nothing as she grabs some paper towels and wipes off her face. Her eyes scream murder as she towels at her hair, trying to get the sticky juice out of it.

"Sissy wet!" Paris giggles, pointing at her older sister before tumbling over herself and onto the floor. I breathe a sigh of relief as I go to help Aislin dry off, taking the towels from her and wiping up most of the apple juice from her arms and face.

"What happened?" I ask, careful not to kneel in the puddle of apple juice. "I thought you came to feed Buttercup."

"I _did_," Aislin pouts. "but Paris said she was thirsty and so I came in and got her some juice and then she followed me in here. I didn't know she was gonna throw it on me, mommy! If I did I wouldn't give her apple juice!"

"Okay, okay, let's get you upstairs to a bath, yes?"

"But I don't wanna take a bath!"

"You really want to be sticky all day?" Aislin sighs in defeat, her pout growing and her eyes dark with anger. Looking over, I notice Haymitch murmuring in a low voice to Paris, and her bottom lip quivering as if she's about to cry. He's scolding her then. I leave him with the task of Paris while I lead Aislin upstairs.

She's reluctant to bathe, but eventually her hands start sticking to things and she gets uncomfortable. I remind myself to stop letting her hang out with Effie so much - dirt absolutely disgusts her and she can't stand more than a couple of minutes of being dirty.

After she's clean and into some fresh clothes, she decides to stay in her room and play. I shrug and leave her to her dolls before checking in on Lilith. She's not awake, which meant she must have fallen asleep while I was downstairs. Not wanting to wake her, I close the door and head back downstairs, where it seems that Haymitch and Paris have gotten comfortable. She's curled up into his side, playing contently with her blocks and he's watching her, occasionally adjusting the toys or knocking them over so she'll keep amused and have to build them again.

"What did I miss?" I ask, sitting next to him. Haymitch shrugs.

"Nothing, much. She cried some, I soothed her, then we both decided to clean up the juice and watch some TV. She's just tired I guess, that nap was due two hours ago."

"Yeah, but her and Jessob were playing outside and I didn't want to bother them," I sigh, arranging a block for Paris. Ever since Peeta dragged Briar and their kids back to District 12 a few months ago, Paris has been especially attached to their youngest, Jessob. And he's gotten quite close to her too. It's a budding friendship, and I don't want to destroy it by dragging Paris out for her nap. Besides, letting her play means she'll go to sleep earlier at night.

When our silence lapses - like many, a comfortable and understanding one that we've shared for years and begun to pass on to our children - I sit back and look at him. It's an odd sight, seeing him with the girls, and after eight years of it, sometimes I forget that Haymitch used to be an alcoholic pessimist that refused to hope for anything that might benefit him. But I'll never fully erase those memories of his pain and suffering from my mind. I'll never truly forget how much he's changed, because it allows me to appreciate it just that much more.

Not just how much he's changed either, how much we've both matured and moved on. Somethings we'll never get over, yes but that doesn't mean we can't move forward in life.

This love of ours may be haunted, broken down and beaten and scarred and stitched, but it's ours and it's precious and honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

_Fin._

* * *

><p><strong>Just a couple of things. I didn't want go with the typical Prim, Rue, etc cliche, so here are the girls full names.<strong>

_**Aislin Lavinia Abernathy  
>Paris Rue Abernathy<br>Lilith Prim Abernathy**_

**I figured Katniss wouldn't want a daily reminder of her sister, but she would still want to honor her death. As well as Rue. As for Lavinia's, Katniss did mention in the books she was nice to her and that she felt like she owed her, so I think this would be a small way to repay that debt for her. The reason why Aislin doesn't have Prim as her middle name is because when Katniss has her, the memories are too fresh. As for Paris, it's more of a quirk with me. If I would have named her Paris Prim, then her last name would have to end with a 'P' or else it would irk the hell out of me. Like "Aislin Lavinia Abernathy" is seriously bothering me, but I couldn't find a female in the books with the first name of 'A' besides Annie and I really like the name Aislin so I kind of have to live with it.**

**Erm, in case you were wondering why Katniss left Lilith alone when she heard Aislin scream, it's because Lily was already dozing off. And besides, she still has that tiny fear that something will happen to one of the girls, so she doesn't really think straight when she fears her loved ones are in danger. Same for Haymitch.**

**If you have any questions or loose ends you want me to tie up, then PM me or drop a review and I'll try to answer them. **

**Again, I'm sad to see it go but thank you for reading Haunted Love! I love all of you guys!**

**- Dayna**


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